


fire and gold

by GoandSeek



Series: Haikyuu First Responders [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: EMT Iwaizumi Hajime, EMT Narita Kazuhito, Firefighter Hinata Shoyo, Firefighter Tanaka Ryuunosuke, First Responders - Freeform, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Minor Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Minor Kinoshita Hisashi/Narita Kazuhito, Nishinoya Yuu & Tanaka Ryuunosuke are Bros, Nurse Kozume Kenma, Paramedic Kinoshita Hisashi, Police Officer Nishinoya Yuu, Pro Volleyball Player Kageyama Tobio, Pro Volleyball Player Oikawa Tooru, Short Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26400328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoandSeek/pseuds/GoandSeek
Summary: “Mister, mister can you hear me?”Kageyama flinched as arms suddenly curled around him. They were attached to a short figure, the small limbs somehow bulging with an obscene amount of muscle. A fireman.No, a man made of fire.The man in front of him had a helmet on, a thick mask covering the majority of his features, but a ring of red framed his silhouette like he himself was an ember. Tufts of vibrant orange hair peeked out from under the misplaced helmet and Kageyama briefly wondered if angels could burn. How annoying.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Series: Haikyuu First Responders [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918789
Comments: 14
Kudos: 89
Collections: Haikyuu Fics That Light my soul on Fire





	1. 1

_SO THIS WAS SELF-CARE._ Kageyama eased into his reclining chair, hackles raised even as the evening air hummed in complacence. He’d set up everything perfectly: there was a freezer-meal of Doria heating up in the oven and his favorite volleyball match was recorded on the DVR and ready to be watched. Kageyama had even gone out and purchased several, weird facemasks at the recommendation of a faceless blogger whose posts had popped up under his Google Search: “How to Relax”. One mask would make him look like a fish, and the other would bubble up so it looked like he was a cloud or something-of-the-sort. It was pretty stupid, but Kageyama had no idea where to even begin. 

_Relax._

The word was foreign to him. 

Kageyama couldn’t remember the last time he’d had leisure time, much less _relaxed_ during that leisure time. Injuring himself at the Olympics had been a less-than-perfect ending to Japan’s final game. Kageyama couldn’t have been happier with their performance. _Well_ , that was a lie, but the PR Team had drilled the line so thoroughly into Kageyama’s volleyball-infested mind that he had started to believe it right until he was put on house arrest. Japan had placed silver and the fact made Kageyama get upset all over again, especially now that he couldn’t distract himself with practice. 

He wanted _gold_.

For as long as he could remember, Olympic gold had been Kageyama’s end goal in life. He could die happy clutching that cold metal in his fist, preferably a volleyball tucked under his other arm, but the universe seemed intent on fucking up Kageyama’s set plan.

 _That’s fine_ , Kageyama tried to remember what his teammates had told him.

 _Next time_ , Kageyama thought to himself, angling his phone so he could see the face mask better. _Next time we’ll get gold._

Four years seemed like a long time, but Kageyama knew how quickly those years could fly by. The next Olympics would be upon them soon, and he would be ready. 

_The team will be ready._

No matter how prodigal Kageyama was, he couldn’t single-handedly win the gold. Volleyball was a team sport: he knew that now (didn’t mean he liked it) and Kageyama was ready to accept the burden of camaraderie if it came with the weight of a shining medal around his neck.

 _Gold,_ obviously. 

For all his obsession with the precious metal, Kageyama hadn’t actually gone out and gotten one of those shimmery, 14 karat face masks. He’d gotten the silly ones as per the blog’s recommendation and was now sorely regretting that decision. The cloud mask or whatever-the-fuck it was had puffed up on his face and was definitely not humorous nor _relaxing_.

It annoyed the everlasting shit out of Kageyama if he was being honest, but sheer stubbornness to get his money’s worth made him keep the demonic-looking bubble mask on instead of washing it off like he dearly wanted to. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone would _see_ him looking like a concrete monster. 

It was just Kageyama, his recorded volleyball match, his freezer-meal Doria, and his ridiculously ugly face mask. 

_Relax._

Kageyama let his head drop back against the recliner, grimacing when the headband holding his hair back slipped ever so slightly. _If any of the stupid mask got into his hair, Kageyama would hunt down that stupid blogger and kill them, so help him, God._

Kageyama tried practicing what his trainer had told him to do. _Deep breaths_. Those were stupid too, but Kageyama begrudgingly admit that they worked ever so often. In situations like this, where Kageyama couldn’t move his left leg without crutches and was banned from touching a volleyball, breaths seemed to help more often than not. It wasn’t that Kageyama needed anger management or anything (many would beg to differ), but he wasn’t exactly a zen master either.

 _Passionate,_ the PR Team had described him as. 

The fans seemed to like it.

Kageyama, frankly, didn’t give a shit. 

_Deep breaths._ Kageyama felt his eyelids grow heavy and flutter shut, the familiar din of a cheering court warbling from his television. There was a familiar warmth in the air, the smell of the warming Doria filling his apartment comfortably. Freezer meals had never been Kageyama’s favorite, but the blog had recommended them to people who didn’t want to eat out (Socialization? Fuck no.) or didn’t know how to cook. Kageyama could do neither, so he’d stupidly gone along with the suggestion.

 _Man_ , Kageyama thought as he drifted to sleep, _I’m going to murder that blogger._

Kageyama hadn’t slept that soundly in ages. Usually, he’d be plagued with night terrors and restless sleep, but some sort of angel seemed to be shining bright on him tonight. _Maybe it’s the face mask_ , Kageyama thought, snorting humorously in his subconscious. 

He would have continued to laugh alongside his subconscious, had it not picked up on something else.

_Barbecue._

Kageyama licked his lips hungrily, eyeing the meat roasting on the grill in front of him that had seemingly manifested out of nowhere. It was tender, almost sliding off its skewers, and it smelled _heavenly_. Dark and smoky, the smell surrounded Kageyama and wrapped around his body like a vice. It began to squeeze harder, cutting into Kageyama’s sore leg with a bit too much animosity.

 _Wait, how’d I get here?_ Kageyama hadn’t eaten barbecue in ages. It wasn’t allowed in his diet.

Kageyama jolted awake, his leg throbbing as the recliner threw him to the floor unceremoniously. _Wha-_ He tried to orient himself, hands fumbling for purchase on the small table in front of his chair. Yanking himself to his feet, Kageyama felt himself crumble just as he managed to stand. Smoke filled his lungs, burning and bitter as it shot down his throat like unwanted whiskey.

_Stay low, stay calm._

Kageyama collapsed into a coughing fit, blearily remembering the Doria he’d chosen to heat in the oven instead of the microwave. _Fuck._

His leg jolted with pain as Kageyama slumped over, the back of his head squashed up against his chair. Eye swimming with black dots, Kageyama could make out the sound of his fire alarm beeping, sharp and piercing. His limbs felt leaden, glued to the floor, and his head began to pound and ache, joining his useless left leg in shooting spikes of pain through Kageyama’s nerves. 

Apparently, Kageyama’s years of restless slumber had accumulated into a nap so potent he hadn’t managed to hear the fire alarm. 

_Is this it?_ Kageyama always thought he’d die holding a volleyball. It was a bit lucrative and morbid, but he’d managed to weasel the whim into his will. _But if I’m burnt to a crisp there won't be a body to bury with a volleyball._

If Kageyama’s eyes hadn’t already been streaming with tears and squinted in pain, he would’ve cried.

“Mister, mister can you hear me?”

Kageyama flinched as arms suddenly curled around him. They were attached to a short figure, the small limbs somehow bulging with an obscene amount of muscle. A fireman. 

_No, a man made of fire._

The man in front of him had a helmet on, a thick mask covering the majority of his features, but a ring of red framed his silhouette like he himself was an ember. Tufts of vibrant orange hair peeked out from under the misplaced helmet and Kageyama briefly wondered if angels could burn. _How annoying._

Kageyama shut his eyes, a sharp pain radiating through his skull. 

“Hinata, I found crutches. Drag him, he’s injured,” A disembodied voice floated over from somewhere by Kageyama’s front door.

 _Drag?_ Kageyama suddenly saw himself, yanked by the feet, and knocked down the stairs like a sack of potatoes. _I think the fuck not._

“We don’t have the reeves yet, Tanaka,” The small ember smoke, “I’m gonna carry him”

“Whatever you say, Shorty, it’s your call,” The disembodied voice— _Tanaka, maybe?_ — spoke again.

The arms around Kageyama tightened, before pulling him off the ground. A blinding pain flared through Kageyama’s leg and he felt his throat scream in protest before his head fell hard against a bony shoulder.

Kageyama passed out for the second time that night (this time far less relaxed than the first).

➳➴➵➶

Hinata looked at the figure in the stretcher piteously. He’d managed to carefully carry the man out of his apartment before using the reeves the EMTs had brought up to cart the unconscious man to the stretcher waiting outside. Most people underestimated his strength when they saw his generally short stature and small frame, but Hinata had worked his ass off to get into the shape he was in today. Being able to carry the black-haired man, who was obviously so solid with muscle he felt like a lead brick, was just evidence of Hinata’s determination and hard work to become the greatest firefighter Miyagi had ever seen. 

“You catch the arsonist?” 

Hinata overheard his fellow firefighter, Tanaka Ryunosoku, chatting amicably with one of the police officers. He was short, shorter than Hinata, and had a strip of dyed hair that fell in front of his eyes occasionally. Technically, the man’s hair would’ve violated the Karasuno Police Department dress code, but the KPD didn’t work hard to enforce rules like that since they usually had bigger things to worry about: like arsonists who set fire to apartments that housed small, local celebrities. 

Besides, Nishinoya Yuu was a crazy good officer, and letting him go on account of a small infraction like longer hair would’ve been stupid on the KPD’s part. 

Hinata wanted to join the conversation, but he was stuck getting his vitals checked by one of the awaiting EMTs. He was a nice guy, with a shaved head like Tanaka but a gentle, calming face. _Narita Kazuhito,_ he’d introduced himself as before putting the blood pressure cuff around Hinata’s arm.

Hinata knew he was fine, but all firefighters needed to get their vitals checked after going into a fire. Sometimes, firefighters could suffer from smoke inhalation, which was usually obvious, but the less-obvious dangerous threat was heat exhaustion. 

“Yeah, Daichi’s got him in cuffs,” Nishinoya’s voice pierced the din, somehow audible amongst the licking of the flames, the whirring of the sirens, and the sound of Hinata’s own heart. Genuine fire calls (where nobody was severely injured) always gave Hinata such a _thrill_.

His adrenaline was all over the place, and Hinata found himself thankful that he’d been one of the first responders so he could take action and not be sitting in wait.

The fire at the apartment complex had been one of the biggest events in Miyagi in a while, so the prefecture had dispatched an obscene amount of EMS, Fire and Rescue, and Police squads to the area. Most EMS teams were on standby since the majority of victims had fled the building as soon as the alarm went off, but a few, like the injured man with the _ugliest face mask in the world,_ were being taken care of the primary ambulance squad: EMS 8 from Aoba-Johsai. 

Hinata had wanted to stay and check up on the man, but the EMS Lieutenant had shooed him away, half-aware of the sad red-head, and mostly focused on the unconscious patient in front of him. Though he was upset, Hinata hadn’t pushed his luck and had gone to get his vitals checked instead. 

He knew better than to argue with Iwaizumi Hajime when he was focused. 

“You think the ugly guy is gonna be okay?” Hinata voiced his thoughts, offering his pointer finger as Narita slipped a pulse-ox out of his jump bag. 

“The ugly guy? Oh, the unconscious man with the bubble face mask?” Narita chuckled, marking down Hinata’s oxygen saturation on his pad before grabbing Hinata’s wrist to measure his pulse and see if it had calmed down. 

Hinata flushed, _right,_ the man had a weird face mask on. It wasn’t nice to call him ugly. _Beauty is on the inside,_ Tanaka-senpai had always said. Hinata agreed wholeheartedly, but he was admittedly just a little shaken by the experience of picking a muscular man up, only to see that he had the face of an _oni_. 

“He’s in good hands,” Narita continued, finishing up Hinata’s vitals, “Iwaizumi-san will take care of him. ALS is on-call too: I know the paramedic well. Hisashi is more than capable of treating your mystery man until they reach Miyagi General Hospital.” 

ALS referred to the Advanced Life Support team that was occasionally called in when there was a possibility of more critical cases. Fires usually resulted in burns, and most major burns needed urgent, specialized care. Not all hospitals were equipped to deal with burn victims too, which was why the ‘mystery man’ as Narita had referred to him as was being sent to Miyagi General. Miyagi General had a specialized burn ward. 

“They’re going to Miyagi General?” Hinata winced. He’d experienced minor burns before and couldn’t imagine the pain of a major one. Having a few EMT friends made for morbid lunch-break conversation topics (you had to have a morbid sense of humor in this line of work) so Hinata’s fear of burns was slightly exaggerated and more than a little ironic considering his profession. 

“I believe so—”

“—Kazuhito!”

A man with fair, spiky hair peered around the open back door of the ambulance. He had a paramedic’s uniform on, a pair of gloves hanging out of his utility pants. They swung as he hastily stepped over to where Narita was and Hinata watched them interact with a look of interest. 

“Hinata-kun, this is the Hisashi I was telling you about,” Narita smiled kindly at the both of them, turning to pack the jump bag. 

“Kinoshita Hisashi,” The paramedic introduced himself with a thin smile, face too tired to attempt anything warmer. Hinata understood completely and he beamed to make up for it, turning his head to cough roughly into his shoulder before introducing himself to Kinoshita. 

“Hinata Shoyo, Department 5 with Karasuno Fire,” Hinata bit his tongue before continuing, “How’s the man? Uh, the unconscious one with nice hair and muscles?”

“The one with the ugly, bubble face mask?” 

Kinoshita chuckled when Hinata nodded enthusiastically. 

“He’s alright, conscious and stable now,” Kinoshita began to fiddle with the penlight poking out of his pant pocket, only stopping when Narita’s hand grazed his own. Their hands interlocked and Kinoshita visibly relaxed, eyes flashing with a newfound boost of energy. 

“They’re bringing him to Karasuno Hospital since he doesn’t have any burn wounds. His airways are clean too. He just seems to have exacerbated a previous injury of his. Torn ACL from what Iwaizumi-san could make out.”

Hinata groaned, letting his head fall into his hands. _A torn ACL?_ That meant three things: one, the man’s crutches were for that injury; two, the reason the man had passed out was from the pain of Hinata jostling his _damaged leg_ ; and three, the man was probably an athlete. 

A _famous_ athlete based on the star-studded cast of victims that were watching their apartments burn down. 

“You think he’s going to sue?”

“Of course not, he’s an adult. He’ll understand that you prioritized his life over his injury,” Narita tried soothing Hinata, reaching out to gently pat the mess of red-hair (now decidedly crushed and awkward from Hinata’s skelter helmet placement) on Hinata’s head. 

“Right, Hisashi?”

Narita looked over to his boyfriend, hoping that the sandy blond would chime in with his supportive affirmations. Instead, both Hinata and Narita watched as Kinoshita turned a nervous, sickly green. 

“Uh, y-yeah,” He spluttered, not in the least convincing. 

Hinata would’ve cried if he hadn’t been so scared his tear ducts malfunctioned (or he might have been dehydrated). 

“Where’s Shorty? Oh, there he is!”

Hinata lifted his head sullenly as Tanaka approached him with a voracious grin. Officer Nishinoya was close behind him with his own devious smile. They both stopped abruptly when they saw Hinata’s face, jumping into action when Hinata’s weak attempt at a smile gave way to low whine. 

“Oi, Shoyo, who hurt you?” Tanaka kneeled in front of Hinata, eyeing Narita and Kinoshita with flagrant distrust. Tanaka would’ve eyed his own reflection with distrust if there had been a mirror around, but there wasn’t, so his intimidation carried across instead of dispersing the way it usually did when others saw how he only had one half of a brain cell. 

The other half of the brain cell took form as Nishinoya Yuu, and all his neurons were firing as he puffed his chest up aggressively and began to interrogate Narita and Kinoshita. Nishinoya, like Tanaka, felt it was his duty to protect the young firefighter because it was his duty as an official with more experience (and not because Hinata would buy the drinks if they asked). 

“What happened? Somebody better start talking, or I’ll…” Nishinoya faltered when he realized that he had absolutely nothing to threaten anyone with. Daichi, the Chief of Police at KPD, had taken away Nishinoya’s taser, baton, and flashlight (totally unwarranted, by the way) as soon as the sprightly officer had passed his entrance exam. 

But Nishinoya hadn’t come this far relying on his badge. 

“...I’ll make somebody talk,” Nishinoya cracked his knuckles menacingly, grinning when he felt Tanaka’s familiar shadow fall over the scared EMT and paramedic in front of him. 

“Tanaka-senpai, Noya-senpai,” Hinata called out to the gruesome twosome weakly, smiling wanly when Narita and Kinoshita looked at him thankfully before escaping quickly. 

“What is it, Shoyo?” Noya poked Hinata’s cheek, eyes squinting as he tried his best to manifest the x-ray vision he believed himself to have. 

“You feel sick? Need me to call Dr. Shimizu?” Tanaka peered at Hinata worriedly.

Hinata shook his head no slowly before slowly reinflating with confidence in front of Nishinoya and Tanaka as they watched. It was one of Hinata’s many admirable traits: his ability to bounce back from nearly any setback. The elder firefighter and the short officer grinned devilishly as Hinata turned to him with an intense fire in his eyes. 

“Noya-san, are you on duty?”

“Technically, I just got off duty about fifteen minutes ago, why?” Nishinoya smirked.

“Can you give me a ride to Karasuno Hospital? There’s someone I need to clarify a few _things_ with.”

______________________________________________________________________________


	2. 2

Kageyama couldn’t remember much except pain, smoke, and _stupid_ fluorescent lights. _Why was it all so bright?_ He forced his eyes to pry open, shutting them again almost immediately as the tube light above him glared down, almighty. Kageyama hated the color white with a passion: it was too clean, too loud, and too bland all at the same time. He didn’t understand why most hospitals (he’d been to more than a few, and all around the world too) chose the most obnoxious lights in existence, but he figured the doctors couldn’t very well help people in the dark, or by candlelight. 

_How unromantic_ , Kageyama snorted. 

“Kageyama Tobio, are you alert?”

_Who the hell—_

Kageyama sat up straight, his back protesting at the sudden motion. His neck felt stiff and his mouth was unbearably dry. Coach Ukai would _murder_ Kageyama if he found out that he wasn’t staying hydrated. Kageyama began to panic, searching his surroundings for the water bottle he usually kept next to his bed. When he realized he wasn’t in his bed and was, in fact, at Karasuno Hospital, a second wave of panic washed over Kageyama so strongly he almost passed out again.

Kageyama wasn’t a stranger to stressful situations, but all his logical, level-headed thinking was reserved for the volleyball court. Outside of practice and games, Kageyama’s brain barely functioned to keep him alive. 

“I’m your nurse, Michimiya Yui,” A happy-looking woman stood at the foot of Kageyama’s bed, a clipboard in her hands. 

“How are you feeling Kageyama-kun?” 

“Like shit,” came Kageyama’s gravelly response, his vocal cords roughly contorting as he tried to speak, “Can I go home?” 

Michimiya laughed cutely, not answering his question as she jotted a few things down. Her brown hair was tied back into a tiny ponytail, and Kageyama briefly wondered how the short strands had been coerced to stay back at all. 

“Hey, you can’t keep me here against my will,” Kageyama scowled, sitting up fully. The thin blanket that had been covering him fell into his lap, pooling around his waist. Goosebumps erupted down his spine as the hospital gown he was in peeled open, exposing the entirety of his back to the frigid, hospital air. 

“Not against your will,” Nurse Michimiya smiled, “We just have a few people who want to talk to you”

 _Oh shit._ Kageyama recalled the stupid freezer meal Doria he’d tried heating up in the oven. _Of course._ He was injured, but that wouldn’t stop the government from pressing charges for him being a _fucking idiot._ He was the one who caused the fire after all. He’d have to pay.

“Hey, wait,” He called out as Michimiya turned to exit the room, “Was anyone else injured?”

“No, just you,” 

Kageyama sighed with relief. 

“Really, the only injury you have is that your healing ACL was tweaked a bit. Nothing some diligent care and physical therapy cannot fix.”

Nurse Michimiya nodded before walking to the door.

“Oh, are you alright with your visitors coming in?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kageyama waved his hand in the air. _Might as well get the legal business over and done with._

“I’ll let them in. Have a nice day, and I hope you feel better Kageyama-kun.”

The room felt degrees colder when the nurse left, anxious _loneliness_ eating at his insides. Kageyama didn’t dislike being alone, preferred it actually, but with no distractions, the emptiness of his hospital room started to expand. 

_Let me get out of this stupid thing._ Kageyama pulled himself up and out of bed, gingerly pressing the majority of weight onto his healthy leg. He hated how weird the hospital gown felt: how exposed his entire backside felt. Thankfully, he still had underwear on, but the cold wasn’t helping restore his confidence much. 

_Dammit, why does my dick look like a cocktail weenie?_ Kageyama’s dislike for the cold grew tenfold. 

“Where the fuck are my clothes?” 

Kageyama’s gaze swept the room, his hands clutching at the now-wrinkled gown. _Nothing._ His clothes were nowhere to be found, but Kageyama did spot a pair of crutches leaning against the far wall.

_How am I supposed to get over there?_

Kageyama began his undignified shuffle to the other side of the room, clinging to the thin chair rail that ran the inside length of the wall. 

“Kageyama, what the fuck are you doing?”

Kageyama blinked once, twice, and then slowly turned his head to where Iwaizumi Hajime was looking at him like he’d grown an extra head. The man’s thick arms were crossed in front of his chest in confusion, eyes narrowed in curiosity. 

“Uh, hello, _oh—_ ,” Kageyama shuffled to face the doorway, feeling his face flush a bright red.

“Iwaizumi? You’re not here to sue me, right?”

Kageyama’s hands slowly migrated to cover his private area (though the frigid air made it so that there wasn’t much that needed to be hidden). 

“What? No. The fire was caused by a random arsonist, why would you—”

“— _Uwaah,_ you mean he’s Kageyama Tobio? _The_ Kageyama Tobio?”

A small head appeared from behind Iwaizumi, the vibrant shock of orange hair on top of it making Kageyama’s eyes ache with familiarity. _A fan? Why would Iwaizumi let a fan into the room?_ The stranger had big, brown eyes that made Kageyama’s stomach churn unpleasantly when their curious gaze ran the length of his body.

Kageyama shuffled again, his arms stiffening to protect what little modesty he had left as he glared at the short man with carrot-colored hair.

“Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the one who saved your butt!” The short man bit back, the awe in his eyes making way for anger. 

Iwaizumi watched the exchange interestedly before walking fully into the room and sitting himself down. He had a bag slung over his shoulder and he tossed it at Kageyama who opened it, slyly using it to cover the area below his waist. _Clothes._

“Thank you,” Kageyama muttered, turning away from the two peering eyes to pull on a pair of sweats and a loose t-shirt. 

He turned back to face the short man.

“The fuck you mean, ‘saved my butt’?”

➳➴➵➶

Hinata gaped at the man in front of him openly. _Kageyama Tobio._ The name whirled around the redhead's sleep-deprived brain, memories of tinny television sounds, and branded volleyballs emerging from his mental mist in a mutated state. _The_ Kageyama Tobio: practically a household name at this point, second only to Ken Watanabe (a gross exaggeration to the average person, but not to Hinata Shoyo who considered volleyball to be second only to firefighting). Hinata had spent countless nights watching volleyball matches in the dull lights of the firehouse back room only to now finally see the overly pixelated face in person and _it was worth it._

_It was so very much worth it._

Kageyama was not ugly in the least and Hinata sorely regretted ever assuming the bubble mask was to hide something. Tanaka’s motto of _beauty beyond skin_ aside, Hinata mentally crowned Kageyama the most un-ugly person alive: there was nothing flawed about the man. He had smooth, unblemished skin that faded smoothly into tanner portions on his forearms and lower legs. His hair, though unstylish, was healthy-looking and glossy. It reminded Hinata of a window curtain, and he briefly wondered what he’d find if he parted the cu— _oh._

Kageyama had nice eyes.

 _Nice_ was the understatement of the century, but if Hinata looked at Kageyama’s eyes any longer he’d probably forget _how obnoxious and rude Kageyama Tobio_ —

“—I saved your butt,” Hinata’s mouth moved before his mind could and he crashed back to reality, noting somewhere in the back of his head that Kageyama had new clothes on and that meant he _hadn’t_ had clothes on a few seconds before. 

Hinata had been too caught up in ogling Kageyama’s mask-free face to notice the almost-nude state the scowling man had been in when Iwaizumi and Hinata had entered. _Darn._

“I was the one who got you out of the fire, you idiot,” Hinata frowned, crossing his arms as Kageyama scoffed. 

“You? You don’t look like you could do a pushup, much less carry me—”

“— _hey!_ —” 

“—Knock it off, Tobio.” 

Iwaizumi interrupted their bickering with a scowl, getting up to ruffle Hinata’s hair fondly. Though Iwaizumi’s EMS squad wasn’t called into Karasuno often, the few times Hinata had been exposed to the Aoba-Johsai squad had been pleasant. Hinata had only met Iwaizumi a few times on various prefecture-wide calls, but he’d been drawn to the older man and his grumpy facade. Hinata just naturally got along with most people, and Iwaizumi wasn’t an exception. 

_Kageyama, on the other hand, might be an exception._

“Oh,” The word sounded small and fell from Kageyama’s lips in a soft, childish way, “you’re the firefighter then?”

Hinata smiled and nodded, his chin tilting up proudly, “Yeah, and I carried you down three flights of stairs, you know? You’re not a light person, Kageyama-ku—”

“—You’re the dumbass who made my injury worsen,” Kageyama cut Hinata off crossly, his eyes alight with anger. Hinata’s jaw dropped in disbelief as he subconsciously moved behind Iwaizumi to shield himself from the volleyball star’s venomous glare. 

“The reeves wasn’t ready,” Hinata squeaked, all his bravado leaving him as his _idol_ scowled at him. _I’m scum,_ Hinata pictured his epitaph gravely: _Here lies Hinata Shoyo. This dumbass is the reason Japan never won gold in the Olympics._

And Kageyama wouldn’t even bother visiting his grave, but he’d hire a professional just to spit on the freshly turned ground. Or maybe the man wouldn’t even offer Hinata _that_ courtesy.

“Don’t even try pinning your stupidity on him,” Iwaizumi calmly cut off Kageyama’s mental death-ray (that was trying to target Hinata’s stupid fire-looking head). Hinata beamed into Iwaizumi’s back, clasping his shoulder in gratitude. Iwaizumi had been the one to stabilize Kageyama after he’d inhaled a little too much smoke, and he’d also been the one to bring him to the hospital both after the fire incident and, coincidentally, after he injured his ACL. Kageyama’s entire world revolved around volleyball: playing and practicing. Hinata’s world wasn’t much different, but there was a lot more firefighting which meant there was less time to play and practice volleyball.

So, Hinata made do with watching every match religiously. 

Hinata would bet good money on Kageyama’s slow healing to be on the fact that he hadn’t been able to avoid strenuous activity like the doctor had said (and Iwaizumi would undoubtedly agree). 

“Thank you, Iwaizumi-senpai!”

“How do you even know the dumbass?” Kageyama scowled, none too happy with how chummy the strange orange troll and Iwaizumi were. 

Hinata noted the man’s jealousy and tucked himself further into Iwaizumi’s side, an evil, smug-looking smile spreading across his impish features. Hinata wasn’t one to harass others, but there was something about Kageyama that made him inexplicably fun to tease. Maybe it was the way his cheeks were getting progressively pinker or the murderous look in his eyes. 

It made Hinata feel all giggly inside. 

“I’m not a dumbass,” Hinata couldn’t even hide his laugh, snickering into the back of his hand as his protest lost all credibility with each noise that escaped. 

Kageyama looked at Iwaizumi drolly as if to say: _See? He’s a dumbass._

“We met at a conference last year,” Iwaizumi finally supplied an answer, impatiently tapping his shoe on the ground as Kageyama resumed his hobble to get his crutches. Hinata normally would’ve helped as he hated to see people struggle, but seeing _the_ Kageyama Tobio, national volleyball star, scuttle across the floor like an old man was too rare a sight to pass up.

“And, Hinata, this idiot over here was my neighbor when I was younger. His mom asked me to look out for him, but he’s adamant on being a—”

“—What conference?” Kageyama interrupted hastily, his face flushing.

 _Am I a sadist?_ Hinata watched Kageyama slip the crutches under his armpits jerkily, his bangs swishing to one side as he blew at them petulantly. Kageyama looked like he was in pain, not bone-breaking pain, but constipational pain (which could be almost as bad). Hinata thought it was _hilarious._

“It was mandatory training for dive calls,” Iwaizumi finished his thought, the words quiet as he realized no one was really listening. Kageyama seemed too caught up in not being his normal klutzy self, and Hinata was too caught up in waiting for Kageyama to do something incredibly klutzy to listen to Iwaizumi.

“Can we get out of here now?” Kageyama shot Hinata another nasty look, but Hinata just smiled in return, his mood inflating with every increased wrinkle that presented itself on Kageyama’s flawless forehead. 

“But I have so many questions about volleyball,” Hinata pouted, semi-jokingly.

“You play volleyball?” 

The change in mood was achingly apparent, Kageyama’s eyes lighting up with childish delight. His own interest piqued Hinata’s, whose gaze returned the excitement tenfold. Their energy was palpable, fizzing, and popping like an electrical circuit, and Iwaizumi had to clear his throat roughly to regain their attention. It barely worked: the two men’s heads turning eerily towards the grumpy man, their pupils emulating volleyballs (instead of hearts as one would do if they were in love, which they were not, obviously). 

“Let’s get going before—”

“—Tobio-chan! I heard about the fire. Are you an idiot?”

A man with perfectly coiffed brown hair broke into the room, his eyes surveilling Kageyama’s apathetic face before looking at Hinata curiously. Hinata gaped in response, his mouth opening into a wide smile as he bound forward and grasped the newcomer’s hand in a firm handshake. 

“You’re Oikawa Tooru! I’ve watched all your matches,” Hinata smiled so hard his eyes squinted shut, “Well, nearly all of them, but, anyway, I’m a huge fan! When you serve the ball goes all _gwoosh_ , and _boom_ : so cool!” 

“Always a pleasure to meet a fan,” Oikawa’s panic dropped from his face scarily fast, a suave grin taking its place.

“He’s not a fan, he’s an idiot,” Kageyama intervened, tossing the bag Iwaizumi had got for him back at the grumpy EMT. 

Oikawa ignored the sullen party-pooper, his smile slowly shifting into a smirk as he eyed Iwaizumi standing next to the hospital cot. Hinata didn’t notice the change in the air, happily migrating to Kageyama’s side to pester him. Only, now, Kageyama seemed less bothered by Hinata on account of all the “pestering” being volleyball-centric. 

“Iwa-chan! We meet again,” Oikawa sidled next to Iwaizumi with a devilish look. Hinata knew from Iwaizumi’s previous ranting that Oikawa was an unfortunate pimple on the otherwise smooth-forehead of Iwaizumi’s life. They’d only met once before (when Kageyama was injured), but Oikawa had clung to Iwaizumi like a limpet, even going so far as to find his social media and hopelessly stalk the man. 

Hinata had thought it was awesome: _Oikawa Tooru? National volleyball star? Following his senpai on Instagram?_

He’d almost had a heart attack.

“This really must be fate, Iwa-chan.”

“I must have been a murderer in my past life.”

Hinata giggled, patting Iwaizumi’s shoulder reassuringly. If anyone could deal with the overwhelming personality of Oikawa Tooru, it would be his senpai and his almost-equally underwhelming personality. And if anyone could deal with Kageyama and his big dumb head, his pretty eyes, and scathing tongue it would be him, Hinata Shoyo.

Hinata knew a thing or two about playing with Fire.

______________________________________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I took a few liberties with writing about emergency-service protocol (firefighters don't carry people so much nowadays), but I'm still pretty satisfied with how it's going. If anything seems confusing, don't be afraid to ask questions, and I'll answer to the best of my ability.  
> i.e. What is the reeves? The reeves is a foldable mat (with handles) that makes lifting and transporting patients easier, especially in constricting situations where stretchers cannot fit.  
> That being said, I hoped you enjoyed this chapter!


	3. 3

Kageyama wasn’t an aggressive person. _Passionate, not aggressive._ But sometimes that passion misdirected itself. Usually, it misdirected itself straight at Oikawa’s pretty nose: especially when Oikawa’s pretty nose would scrunch up right above his conceited smile, cheeks stuffed full with breakfast and his hair the same color as the coffee he’d stolen from Kageyama’s machine. 

“What the hell are you doing in my apartment?”

Kageyama croaked, the sleep not fully leaving his voice as he eyed Oikawa suspiciously through a mask of fatigue. There was a dull ache in his back, and his neck felt stiffer than it had in years. _Probably from having to crane it to look at the annoying, short fireman who had annoying, fiery hair and an annoying, bright smil—_

“ _—_ Your apartment? Your apartment is burnt to a crisp, Tobio-chan!”

 _Oh._ Kageyama let his dumbfounded expression slip off his face as quickly as it had come, but it was too late. _This is Iwaizumi’s apartment...right._

Oikawa chuckled, his own voice thick with what could have only been a night spent studying old volleyball clips. When Kageyama had been new to the national team, an excited, begrudgingly cute boy-not-yet-man, he and Oikawa had spent the better half of most nights holed up in each other's apartment, watching and rewatching volleyball matches until their eyeballs began to throb. Iwaizumi, busy with his EMT certification, daily-wage job, and other normal, adult problems, hadn’t noticed Kageyama’s newfound insomnia that took form as Oikawa Tooru. 

Oikawa had noticed Iwaizumi though. 

“Where’s Iwaizumi-san?” Kageyama scowled at his senior, shouldering past the smirking brunette so he could take his own turn at the coffee. The machine was a bit finicky, not quite as high-end as Kageyama’s had been, but he couldn’t complain since Iwaizumi had been nice enough to let him crash until he figured another place to stay.

“Sleeping, so _shush_ ,” Oikawa pressed a finger to his lips before sipping at his cup, “He had a long night.”

“I thought he was off duty last night?”

“Off for the ambulance, but he had a shift at Club Kubo,” Oikawa sniffed snottily, using the sleeve of his loose, blue sweatshirt to wipe at the area under his nose. 

“They really don’t pay him enough for either job.”

Another sniff. Oikawa always got congested when he pulled all-nighters, his sniffing warranting more than a few tabloids dedicated to conspiracy theories about drug abuse. Kageyama had thought it hilarious until the tabloids had labeled him a sexless powermonger.

 _I am not a virgin,_ Kageyama had pointedly told Oikawa and the PR Team (Oikawa didn’t believe him).

“He’s still working at that seedy club?”

“Yes, he’s still working at that seedy club _—_ ”

Both Kageyama and Oikawa jumped at the new voice which was familiarly gravelly and annoyed. Iwaizumi stood in the doorway of his bedroom, the base of his palm rubbing at his eyes roughly. The other hand fiddled with the drawstrings on his loose pajama pants, reaching up to rub his bare stomach as it growled alongside the tired man. 

“ _—_ and he would very much appreciate if the two idiots using his coffee machine and being loud would shut the fuck up and let him sleep.” 

“Sorry, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa grinned, energy suddenly radiating off of him. 

_Huh, I guess caffeine really affects him._ Kageyama stepped aside and sipped at his coffee (which was entirely too much milk and too little coffee according to most people). 

“How’s the leg?” Iwaizumi ignored Oikawa, leaning against the countertop with a yawn. He scratched at his shoulder, running a hand back and forth through his hair as if he could shake the sleep away. 

“Stiff,” Kageyama answered bluntly, bending his leg gently and flexing it back as Iwaizumi looked at it interestedly. 

“You finished PT, right?"

“What?” Kageyama’s eyebrows screwed up in confusion. _What the hell’s PT mean?_

“Physical therapy, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa cut through Kageyama’s circular thought process with a smile, “He finished last week. He’s supposed to be getting back into the daily motions of life: walking without crutches and stuff, but the incident the other day kinda put a damper on that…what?”

Kageyama looked up from his more-milk-than-coffee coffee to see Oikawa frown briefly in Iwaizumi’s direction. The brunette seemed just as confused as he was, so he resumed his morning drink unassumingly. 

“Who are you again?”

Oikawa gaped at Iwaizumi’s back, eyebrows furrowing in a medley of shock and dismay.

 _That’s nice,_ Kageyama smiled smugly, rolling out his shoulders and reveling in the sight of the famous Oikawa Tooru (with a notorious ability to _not_ shut up) being reduced to silence. 

“I _—I’m Oikawa Tooru,_ ” Oikawa’s normally confident demeanor slipped fast and Kageyama watched his senior fall into a babbling, half-human state. It was strange, almost alien, to see Oikawa fumble to find his words, but it wasn’t unwelcome.

It was sickening how easily Oikawa could thrive in social situations, especially in comparison to the much more awkward, scowling state of Kageyama Tobio. _Ha._ The simple superiority Kageyama felt at that moment was unparalleled.

“Okay, _Oikawa Tooru_ ,” Iwaizumi drawled, crossing his arms tight across his broad chest as he inhaled his dirt-black coffee with relish, “How did you get into my apartment?”

Kageyama blinked foolishly. _How did Oikawa get in?_ Kageyama hadn’t let him in. Iwaizumi certainly hadn’t either. 

Oikawa smiled sheepishly under either man’s questioning glare, both of them intimidating enough to warrant a breakdown of even the bravest souls. 

“Well,” Oikawa tried stalling, giving up when Iwaizumi harrumphed in warning, “Let’s just say your landlady is a fan.” 

Iwaizumi groaned, draining the last of his coffee and tossing the cup into the sink. 

“That's fucking illegal,” Iwaizumi turned to wash the dishes like he did every morning, “She can’t just _do_ that. I don’t even _know_ you. Damn, _Shittykawa_ , why’re you even here…” 

Iwaizumi trailed off, eyes scanning the perimeter of the sink that would normally be stacked high with dishes and dirty coffee mugs. It was startlingly empty, and even more startingly clean. Not just the dishes (that seemed to have been put in their respective cabinets), but the sink itself gleamed with a freshness Iwaizumi hadn’t seen since his days browsing household utilities in magazines. 

“I did the dishes,” Oikawa spoke up quietly, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“Why the fuck would he mind?” Kageyama spoke his thoughts, flinching when Oikawa glared at him. 

“Uh, yeah, I don’t mind. Thanks.” Iwaizumi rubbed the back of his neck with _—no, that can’t be. Is Iwaizumi blushing?_ Kageyama squinted in disbelief, his mouth hanging open as he witnessed a violent red rip across his temporary roommate’s features. 

Oikawa smiled prettily, casting a haughty look over in Kageyama’s direction, “No problem. I also made some breakfast if you want it. Bought the ingredients myself, but I did use some—”

“—What’s your name again?”

“Oikawa. Oikawa Tooru. You can call me Tooru if you’d like Iwaizumi-san.”

Kageyama gagged. _Are they flirting? Disgusting._ Kageyama had never been unfortunate enough to witness Iwaizumi flirting (though he couldn’t say the same for Oikawa) and it was a sight he wished he’d remained ignorant of. 

“I’m leaving.”

Kageyama dumped his cup in the sink, speedily throwing on some clothes before pausing at the entryway. Iwaizumi looked over at him like he wanted to ask where exactly Kageyama thought he’d be able to hobble to (truth be told, Kageyama hadn’t thought ahead that far: he just knew he couldn’t stay in the apartment a second longer). Oikawa recaptured Iwaizumi’s attention skillfully, winking at Kageyama as he made his clumsy escape, banging his knee against the doorframe as he left. 

_Fuck you and your overactive dick, Oikawa Tooru._ Kageyama scowled, pulling his collar up around his ears that always seemed to be cold. Kageyama wasn’t unused to Oikawa’s incessant flirting (sleeping with people seemed to be the only other hobby Oikawa had next to volleyball), but to target Kageyama’s almost-brother Iwaizumi was a bit much. 

Kageyama walked with an angry shuffle to the train, only half-realizing where his feet were taking him. 

➳➴➵➶

It was cold, but Hinata had always been immune to the weather. That wasn’t to say his skin didn’t tinge pink in the biting wind, but it had always been a thing of mind over matter for Hinata. Sure, it was cold, and he couldn’t feel his fingers, but the cold never seeped farther than the very tips of his fingers and toes (and maybe the tips of his ears and nose). Tanaka liked to say Hinata had a little fire instead of a heart (not that Hinata was heartless), and the little fire would burn bright to keep all of him warm. All of the people he cared about too. 

“How many times has that been this week?” 

Hinata scowled into the flat of his palm, legs bouncing with unspent energy. Tanaka sat opposite to him, the rest of the on-duty squad having their own muted conversations off to the side. 

“Three times, so far,” Tanaka offered helpfully, “They really should just get a new carbon monoxide monitor.”

Hinata groaned in agreement, letting his head flop back against the heavy seat he’d strapped himself into. The others didn’t bother with seatbelts most of the time, but Hinata liked the way they pinned him down and let his energy mount. He’d tried explaining it to Tanaka once, using a roller coaster as an analogy. The adrenaline didn’t kick in for Hinata at the summit, it kicked in when the bars came down and locked him in. 

The excitement. The energy. The fear. All of it. 

Hinata lived for it. _Thrived_ off of it. 

“How angry you bet Udai-san is?” 

Hinata choked on his spit, joining Tanaka in a few minutes of unbridled laughter as the rest of the crew looked on, unsurprised. Udai Tenma, Karasuno District Five’s Fire Chief, was a nice guy most of the time, but as soon as the dispatch came in and the sirens went off he _changed._ It wasn’t dissimilar to how Hinata changed, energy mounting, but Hinata was almost always energetic. Udai’s transformation was much more drastic. 

Most firefighters didn’t join the force thinking they’d spend most of their time on slow calls: this one had been one of the _slowest._ There was an unbelievable amount of businesses in Miyagi who just didn’t keep their carbon monoxide monitors up to date. And so, they would malfunction. Carbon monoxide poisoning was rightfully dangerous enough to rouse at least two trucks and an ambulance on standby, but the false alarms were what _killed_ Hinata. 

_Just keep your alarms up to date,_ Hinata frowned, stretching his arms as well as he could as the truck pulled back into the station, _It’s really not that hard._

Hinata hated it when his energy would spike in anticipation, only to be bottled up as the false alarms rolled in. Even saving a stuck cat would have been preferable. 

“It’s a shame you were off-duty yesterday,” Tanaka spoke over his shoulder as he peeled off his gear besides Hinata, “There was a kid who got his head stuck in a chair.”

“Tanaka-senpai, didn’t you get your head stuck in a chair when you were younger?”

“Sure did,” Tanaka grinned proudly, “By the time they finished sawing it in half and lubing up my head, I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up.”

“So cool, Tanaka-sen— _huh_?”

Hinata’s mouth made a little ‘o’ shape, his hair half stuck in a helmet-shape as he peered around the Tanaka to the approaching figure in a heavy coat. _Kageyama Tobio._ His hair was stuck to his forehead in a flat sheet, eyes smoldering with some kind of conflict as the scowling man first made eye contact with Hinata, then looked away, then looked at Hinata again. 

_What is he doing here?_

The full day Hinata had spent harassing Kageyama with volleyball questions had been, shamefully, one of the greatest days of Hinata’s life. But, karma, it seemed, was insistent on Hinata repenting. 

“Is that _the_ Kageyama Tobio? In our firehouse?” Tanaka’s voice dropped a few decibels, the way it did when he began to doubt his sanity. Kiyoko had aptly named it the _careless whisper_. 

“What the actual fu—”

“—Kageyama-kun!” Hinata cheered, a bright grin splitting his face near in half. He brought a hand up to wave at the man crazily, his chest swelling with an unfamiliar warmth as Kageyama firmly ignored him and began to walk towards them faster. 

“Sho, you know _the_ Kageyama Tobio? And you _never told me?!_ ” Tanaka clasped a hand to his chest, eyes screwing up in preparation to cry woefully. 

“He was the man with the ugly, bubble-mask, and crutches. From the arson-fire, remember?”

“That _thing,_ was _Kageyama Tobio_?” 

Tanaka’s jaw dropped in amazement, his arms moving in a blur as he hurriedly packed the rest of his gear up, now in preparation to meet one of his favorite volleyball players. Tanaka was one of the few who could match Hinata fervor when it came to volleyball, and the two of them would often spend every shared shift watching matches on the ratty television in the break room until their eyeballs throbbed. 

Kageyama finally neared Hinata and Tanaka, his steps stalling as the air shifted around him from the mild chill of the duty bay to a scary, scorching heat. For the second time in his life, Hinata felt electricity crackle from his eyes as Kageyama came to stand in front of him. 

The lumbering man opened and closed his mouth like a fish, finally settling for a low, grumbling greeting. 

“What brings you to my firehouse, Kageyama-kun?” 

“Don’t call me that, you annoying tangerine.”

A beat passed before Hinata giggled merrily, punching Kageyama’s arm gently before steering him towards his awaiting senior. Tanaka’s face was welcoming to those who knew him, but to strangers, he looked just about ready to beat the crap out of someone. Kageyama hesitated for a second, offering his hand to Tanaka who shook it happily. 

“I shook Kageyama Tobio’s hand,” He laughed, “I have to tell Kiyoko. _I have to tell Noya!_ ”

With a hasty goodbye, Tanaka took off for the breakroom where his cell had been charging. Hinata watched him go with a broad smile, the frustration he’d been feeling from their prior call gone. _Poof._ It was as if Kageyama’s icy stare had snuffed out the little anger that had bubbled in Hinata, replacing it with a strange giddiness. 

“I dropped by to say…” Kageyama trailed off, his chin dropping, mouth moving as no words came out. 

“To say what?” Hinata tilted his head curiously, growing aware of his need to use the bathroom. 

“Oh, how’d you even get in here?”

“Oh,” Kageyama flushed lightly, “the garage door was open and, uh, your chief said I could come in.”

 _Of course,_ Hinata snorted. Udai was a pretty religious volleyball watcher as well, so it made sense that he’d let Kageyama into their station with zero questions. 

“Well,” Hinata smiled up at Kageyama, “Want to hang out while you wait to remember why exactly you came here?”

“I didn’t forget why I came here, dumbass!”

“Oh yeah? Then why’re you here, _Kageyama-kun_?”

“Dumbass Hinata, I said don’t call me that—”

“— _Kageyama-kunnn_ —”

“—Hinata. I swear. If you value your life—”

“— _Tobio_ —” 

Kageyama lunged forward, pressing his hand against Hinata’s smirky mouth. His hand was calloused, rough against the soft skin of Hinata’s lips. _Volleyball hands._ Hinata chided himself for perving over Kageyama’s hands, focusing instead on meeting the blue-eyed man’s gaze evenly.

_Electric._

“Did you just lick my hand?”

“Is water wet?”

“What? _No—yes_ —what?”

Hinata chuckled, reaching out to grab Kageyama’s hand with his own. _Woah, he has muscle in his wrists too._ Kageyama could’ve been an anatomical study for an art class, every inch of his arm _sculpted._ Hinata spent most of his off days at the gym, but even he wasn’t this close to physical perfection. A spike of jealousy and _want_ wedged itself into Hinata’s stomach as he picked up the edge of his shirt to mop Kageyama’s palm clean of his spit. 

Hinata held Kageyama’s wrist a little longer than he should have, short, blunt fingers barely able to wrap fully around the bone.

“I—uh,” 

Kageyama broke the silence, pulling his wrist to his chest when Hinata dropped it like a hot coal, focusing on the space between Kageyama’s brows pointedly. Hinata’s face already felt warm, _too warm,_ as if the little fire in his heart had bypassed the security measures and lit a trail extending down every inch of his body. 

“I came here to thank you,” Kageyama finally relented, shoulder sagging with the relief from finally saying what had been on his mind for two days.

“I—I wasn’t very nice to you at first—”

Hinata bit back a laugh: _at first?_ But Kageyama seemed like he was really trying, and it was unbearably _cute,_ so Hinata, for one of the first times in his life, reeled himself in and let Kageyama figure out the words by himself. 

“—and, um, you saved me. So, thank you.”

“Anytime, Kageyama-san.”

They shared smiles: Hinata’s far too big and bright, and Kageyama’s small and underused. Hinata didn’t mind the awkwardness. In fact, he thought the rarity of Kageyama’s smile made it all the more valuable. _Like gold._

“Uh, can you not call me that?”

“What? You don’t like Kageyama-san, either?”

“No.”

“Then, just ‘Kageyama’?”

“Hmm,” Kageyama’s mouth screwed up in deliberation, “No.”

“Tob—?”

“—No.”

Hinata blinked. 

“Should I call you Kageyama-sama instead, then?”

“Sure.”

“ _Oi, Egoyama,_ I’m not calling you that—”

Hinata felt his mouth snap shut, unable to functionally take in the sight of Kageyama smiling before him and talk at the same time. The awkwardness was still there (and would probably always be there), but Hinata could now catch a small glimpse of straight, white teeth in Kageyama’s smile. _Rare,_ Hinata felt himself flush and then smile in response, _beautiful._

_Like gold._

________________________________________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, this is an early update for me. I'm just really liking the story so far and I hope you're all enjoying it too! Thank you so much for the kudos and comment(s)! There wasn't any fancy terminology in this chapter (at least, I don't think so, but feel free to ask for clarification) and it wasn't super specific just because I'm not too familiar with firehouses and their structures.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kageyama is really dumb. Like horribly dumb. He ponders his and Hinata's relationship, and possibly makes an oopsy in a press conference. Hinata is a good fireman and he ponders his and Kageyama's relationship over some idle chat about videogames with the one and only Kozume Kenma.

Kageyama didn’t want pity: he wanted to _play._ Sitting on the sideline as everyone else could practice was most definitely _not_ what Kageyama’s ideal Saturday looked like. The ball had rolled over to his feet a few times, it’s lonely shadow hurting him where it stuck. _Come back,_ the volleyball had cried, _Set me like you used too._ Okay, so maybe the volleyball hadn’t exactly said that. Kageyama had probably imagined the entire event due to staying up late and watching crappy reruns on Iwaizumi’s old television, but the point was that Kageyama was sick and tired of being injured. 

_Stupid leg,_ Kageyama scowled down at the offending limb, nails digging into his thigh as Oikawa’s voice resounded from somewhere across the gym. _Get better soon._

“Heads!”

Kageyama’s arms stuck out on instinct, hands closing around the firmness of the volleyball with robotic precision. His body entered autopilot the second he stepped into the gym, even for practice, and it was nothing short of torture to have to switch to manual override and sit tight on the sideline like the athletic trainer had told him to. 

“Tobio-chan,” Oikawa’s annoyingly cheerful face entered just beyond Kageyama’s field of vision, “Mind gently rolling that ball back over here? We don’t want to worsen your injury.”

Kageyama chucked the volleyball straight at Oikawa’s chest, the arc accidentally-almost driving the projectile straight between Oikawa’s legs in a homerun. _Accidentally, my ass._ Kageyama covered an evil grin with a cough: he couldn’t remember the last time a volleyball hadn’t gone exactly where he’d aimed it to go. 

Oikawa knew that fact just as well as he did, the quick flip of his middle finger betraying his emotions as he turned back to continue practice with the others, slated smile unmoving.

“Kageyama-san?” A meek voice interrupted Kageyama’s glare, his focus turning on the gentle-looking woman who’d dared stop his brooding. Her hair was short and neat, her arms folded in front of her politely as she, impressively, didn’t flinch when his glare turned on her (accidentally). 

“What do you want?”

Anyone else would’ve been slapped across the face. _Rude,_ Kageyama remembered the little fireman calling him that. _But I’m not rude._ Kageyama simply couldn’t be bothered to remember all the ins and outs of public etiquette. His job was to be Japan’s lynchpin in Olympic volleyball and his personal goal was to _win_. It was honestly simple. All the fans were handled by the Public Relations Team, and most scandals were kept out of mainstream news with small (if thousands was small) payouts from higher up in the hierarchy than Kageyama was willing to know. 

_Can’t have Japan’s pride and joy be dragged through the mud._

“Amanai Kanoka, sir,” The woman bowed her head quickly, “You’re late for your solo press conference, so the management sent me to escort you.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Sure,” The woman smiled primly, “Now if you’ll follow me, sir.”

Kageyama picked himself up slowly, barking out a series of insults as Oikawa made a face at him from across the gym. Ushijima stood next to the brunette and he raised a singular hand in farewell, face as apathetic as ever. The giant of a man had been making more of an effort to empathize with others recently. It, frankly, scared the shit out of most of the members of the team, but the fans were soaking it up, bathing in it almost. Ushijima was a fan favorite (the strong and silent type was hard to beat), and his new, emerging, caring side was proving to be a headache to Kageyama. If Japan’s Iron Man (a nickname that came from Ushijima’s limited range of emotions and strong built) could manage to express human emotions, what was preventing Kageyama Tobio, the King of the Court, from doing so? 

Critics called it _hubris_. 

Kageyama called it _not giving a singular shit about anything but his sport._

Besides, he was never _rude_. He just was never particularly enthusiastic about anything except for volleyball. 

“Kageyama-san, are you seeing anyone currently? This is for _Fireball_ Sports Magazine.”

Kageyama shoved past the ambush of reporters, stumbling a bit as his leg creaked with disuse. 

_Fireball_ reminded Kageyama of a certain, hyperactive firefighter and his lips quirked up in a quick, secret smile. Hinata Shoyo was everything Kageyama hated in a human: happy, social, loud, and _bright. Way too fucking bright_ , in Kageyama’s opinion. Kageyama was 99% sure that, instead of a brain, Hinata’s head held the sun inside of it, and it shone out through his hair and eyes like an annoying beacon. It would also explain how dumb the redhead was. 

Hinata, though incredibly smart when it came to firefighting techniques, protocol, and volleyball know-how, was an absolute idiot when it came to everything else. Kageyama found it hilarious (though he, admittedly, suffered from an identical stupidity) and he kept the small man’s company for that exact reason: just for fun. 

Why else would he keep the infuriatingly cheery man around?

“Kageyama Tobio, do you have a few seconds to answer some questions?”

 _I’m literally on my way to a press conference,_ Kageyama wanted to scream, but he settled for a simple, “No.”

The woman leading him to the conference (Kageyama had already forgotten her name) stood between Kageyama and the reporter, an easygoing smile somehow permanently a part of her face. 

“Kageyama-san will be answering all questions at the commencement of the press conference, kindly save your questions for then.”

The lady gestured for security to herd the straggling press members towards the tent where the event was taking place. It was a last-minute event, but even if it had been planned months in advance Kageyama still would have probably forgotten. He wasn’t too good at remembering things like this, hence, why management usually sent a scout out to remind him. 

The plan for today’s conference was for Kageyama to answer questions about his healing journey independently, and then for the rest of the team to follow up with a general conference about their practice for the next Olympics. It seemed simple enough, but these things never ran as planned. Press conferences focused less on the sports and more on the athletes’ personal lives than Kageyama would’ve liked. 

Sure enough, five minutes in, Kageyama got his first question about relationships. 

“Kageyama-san, you and Haiba Alisa were seen getting coffee from the same coffee shop in Tokyo earlier this week. Does this have any significance in your relationship with each other?”

“Who is Haiba Alisa?” Kageyama asked slowly. He couldn’t recall any volleyball player he’d met with that name. Aside from his team, Kageyama’s interactions with other (people, really) volleyball players was limited to zero, except for the occasional commercial overlaps. 

The room interrupted in questions and Kageyama physically flinched back as the media representative’s jaw dropped in shock. _Okay, so Haiba Alisa is not a volleyball player._ In Kageyama’s mind, this was supposed to be a press conference about volleyball. Asking him questions about random people who had nothing to do with volleyball was just stupid. What did Kageyama know about other’s coffee preferences? _Nothing. Fucking, nothing._

“This picture was taken of you and this unknown individual a few days ago, can you identify this person for us, Kageyama-san?”

The photo was passed forward before anyone could protest and Kageyama squinted to make out the two people-shaped blobs. One was arguably him: tall, angrily slouching, and black-haired. The other was even more obvious, the red-hair a dead give away. Kageyama felt his lips start to curl up at the edges and he fought it back, fighting desperately to make sure the media couldn’t take anything he did and run with it. 

“That dumbass,” Kageyama mumbled to himself, entirely forgetting that his microphone was very much on and very much close to his mouth. To him, the word fell like it always did from his mouth. To the people of Japan, that ‘dumbass’ was the single most affectionately phrased word Kageyama Tobio had ever said in all his years in the public spotlight (aside from the occasional ‘volleyball’). 

The press went wild.

Cameras started flashing, questions flying at him from all corners of the room. 

“Who is she, Kageyama?”

“Are you dating? Have you set the engagement?”

“What’s her name, Kageyama? Give us a name.”

Kageyama shot a panicked look over to the PR Team, but they themselves looked taken aback. The team was always sure to check in with players for potential relationship status changes so they could prepare themselves accordingly for impending media storms. However, it had never occurred to them that the prickly cactus that was Kageyama Tobio would actually find someone willing to bear with his vulgarity and obsession with perfection. They’d neglected to ask him for any updates on potential updates, more focused on covering up Oikawa’s missteps and his latest flings. 

They were at a loss for words. 

All of Japan was at a loss for words.

Kageyama was at a loss for words too, but not because he was madly in love like the magazines were already publishing, but because he had no fucking clue what was happening. 

“Name? Oh, this is a picture of me and dumbass Hinata.”

“Dumbass Hinata?” The representative from _Fireball_ called out, “Is that your pet name for her?”

“Pet name?” Kageyama scowled in confusion, “No, he’s just a dumbass.”

The room fell silent and Japan had their second heart attack of the day. The Press Team sobbed in the corner. 

“He?” The same representative spoke up, eyes wide, “Kageyama-san is this you confirming your homosexuality?”

“My what?” Kageyama's brow was now so muddled it looked like a black caterpillar had decided to hibernate just above his eyes. 

“What’s that?”

“Do you like men, Kag—”

“—Alright! That’s enough for today’s conference with Kageyama-san.” 

The entire PR Team assembled in front of Kageyama like a human shield and he peered around them curiously. Most of the press reporters seemed to be caught in a state between confusion and more confusion. Some had stony-looking faces, a scary, dark look shadowing their faces. Others held a secretive little smile, packing their things up with far too much energy as they filed out of the tent. A few, bold representatives tried breaking the PR wall to ask Kageyama another question, but they were shut down and shoved out before they could open their mouths. 

“Thank you for coming!” The polite woman who’d reminded Kageyama of the conference stood by the entrance to the tent, her hands folded in front of her, and her smile genuine. 

“We will be continuing today’s press conference in 15 minutes with the rest of Japan’s National line up for the next Olympics.”

One by one, the PR Team swiveled to face Kageyama as he slouched over in his chair. His leg was throbbing a bit and he wanted nothing more than to go home and watch volleyball while practicing his setting on the couch. It wasn’t the best situation, but it was all Iwaizumi allowed him to do without dragging his ass off to the athletic trainers to complain.

 _Maybe I can call Hinata if he’s free_ . It would’ve been nicer to talk in person, but Kageyama was in Tokyo and Hinata was in Miyagi somewhere. They could meet over the weekends (Kageyama would go to Miyagi since he could actually afford the tickets), but during the week they’d stuck with phone calls whenever Hinata’s shift was running particularly slow. It wasn’t that Kageyama liked talking to Hinata, _no definitely not_ , it was just that Hinata happened to be the only person who liked volleyball and was free at the same time, more or less, as Kageyama. 

“Kageyama-san, pardon my bluntness, but _what was that about?_ ”

Kageyama blinked innocently, a frown forming on his face when he met everyone’s gaze. 

“What do you mean? I thought that went well.”

“Who is this Hinata? Are you in a relationship with him, Kageyama-san?”

Kageyama thought about it carefully.

“What are you talking about?” He questioned slowly, pausing when a member of the PR Team stumbled a little like they were going to pass out.

_Relationship?_

“That dumbass and I are not related.”

Kageyama wasn’t too good at picking up on other’s emotions, but even he could sense the waves of frustration rolling off the PR Team. 

“No,” One of the members tried again, desperately, “Are you involved romantically with that _man?_ ”

 _Hinata and I are barely friends,_ Kageyama mulled the idea over, not noticing the way the Team had collectively gone sheet-white and started to hyperventilate at the shitstorm that was most certainly headed their way. _Are barely-friends romantic?_

“Kageyama-san,” The nice lady who’d reminded Kageyama of the conference touched her hand to his forearm gently. 

“Let me simplify this,” She smiled, “Do you and Hinata go on dates and kiss and things like that? Sorry for being intrusive, but we really must know so we can respond accordingly when the media asks.”

 _Dates? Kiss?_ Kageyama blinked. 

“Uh, no”

“Could that change in the future?”

“I don’t know,” Kageyama scowled, uncomfortable with the images that kept popping up into his head, “Hinata and I watch volleyball together and that’s it.”

_That’s it._

That wasn’t the complete truth, and Kageyama knew it. Sometimes, he and Hinata would go out and get food. Sometimes, Kageyama would sleep on the guest futon if he wanted to spend the night watching volleyball reruns. Sometimes, when Kageyama clamped a hand over Hinata’s mouth to shut him up, he’d pull away with a sheen of saliva stuck to his palm. 

“I think we’re friends,” Kageyama's face felt tight as he spoke slowly, waiting for the PR Team to pounce on his words.

“Friends?” A man off to the side spoke up, dabbing at his receding hairline with a handkerchief, “Yes, yes, that’s fine.”

 _Friends._ Kageyama’s gut churned not-unpleasantly. 

It had been a while since he’d had a friend. 

➳➴➵➶

Hinata hated it when people cried, especially kids. Not the spoiled kind who threw tantrums in the middle of stores when they didn’t get the candy they wanted, but the ones who cried fat, sniffly tears when their pet died. Part of Hinata died every time one of those sad-kid tears hit the ground. _Empathy_ , Chief Udai had called it during training, _You’re very empathetic._ Being so attuned to others’ was a blessing and a curse in Hinata’s opinion: he could calm people down with frightening ease, but would often find himself struggling after long hours to forget what he’d seen and felt. 

“Okay, I need you to step this way,” Hinata tried smiling warmly, using his arms to gesture where the kids needed to go. It was hard to not look intimidating in a Hazmat suit, but Hinata seemed to pull it off. The kids smiled back as best they could, nervously edging forward in the line. 

Communication was always crazy during prefecture-wide events and Hinata couldn’t remember when he’d last seen Chief Udai or Tanaka. Both were (Hazmat) technician level firefighters, and they’d ventured into the hot zone (alongside firefighters from other squads with technician level training) in hopes of finding the possible chemical spill. There hadn’t been an explicit sign that a spill had happened at the Iwanuma chemical plant, but the alarms had gone off a few hours prior. 

Luck had it that there had been a middle school touring the facility on a field trip. 

Thankfully, the chemicals weren’t airborne and they weren’t toxic: however, they were well-known to be irritants. Hinata was working decon (he hadn’t been to a technician training) so his main focus was on making sure everyone in the facility (with special attention to the children) was free of contamination. There were others’ from his squad without operations training working further from the site, in the cool zone, ensuring the proper blockades were made and helping identify any possible chemicals that could have leaked. It was tiring work, running the primary decontamination corridor, but it was essential work. 

Narita had joined Hinata to run decon, and few other personnel Hinata wasn’t familiar with, stood at his side. Certain chemicals needed soap to be washed off properly, so some held boxes of proper soap, and others, like Hinata, had formed a passageway framed with firetrucks, their hoses set to deliver a gentle, but dense, douse of water to rinse any contaminants off the potential victims. 

Hinata’s arms felt like lead, moving through the motions to help rinse and guide the victims through the decon corridor they’d set up. The inside of his Hazmat suit was slick with sweat, small puddles squishing around the base of his feet. It felt disgusting. 

But the relief on others’ faces made Hinata smile. 

And that smile would stick with him, even as the shift change finally approached and Hinata peeled his suit off like a used condom (ew).

His smile only grew when he opened the door to his apartment and the smell of egg rice smacked him in the face— a much needed welcome. 

“I brought you _tamago kake gohan_ —”

“—Kenma!—”

“—yes, hello, Shoyou,” Kozume Kenma blinked tiredly at Hinata, hair pulled back into a loose bun at the nape of his neck. Kozume still had his scrubs on: a set of subdued red pants-and-shirt that seemed to mock the absolute lack of vibrant energy that the color promised. The bottle-blond pocketed the spare key he had, popping open the take out containers and arranging them onto the coffee table in front of Hinata’s dingy television set. 

“What brings you to Miyagi?” Hinata’s lethargy left his body as he eagerly bounced over to Kozume to give him a hug (then decided against it, since he’d just come from a decon situation even though he’d showered at the firehouse). Hinata washed his hands in the sink, grabbing a spare glass of water for Kozume and joining the much quieter man in front of the television. 

“A few things,” Kozume answered enigmatically, scrolling down his Twitter feed like he was hunting for something specific. 

“Mainly the release of _Cyberpunk 2077_.” 

“ _Hwah?!_ They’re finally releasing it?” Hinata’s mouth dropped partly in excitement and partly in pain as the rice burned a hole into his tongue. Hinata always got excited, even when he wasn’t familiar with the video games Kenma talked about, and he always burned his tongue with hot takeout. _It’s ritualistic_ , he told himself. 

Kozume nodded with thinly concealed excitement, finally finding the tweet that confirmed the news. Hinata knew how badly his friend wanted the game, smiling to himself when Kozume began to read the tweet aloud, fully knowing that Hinata wouldn’t understand half of it. The tweet was flashy and promised a lot of fun, and also detailed a few of the stores in Japan that would be selling the game without the preorder. 

Kozume hadn’t had enough money at the time of preorder, and he’d spent the past few months picking up extra shifts at Tokyo General, where he was a nurse, so he’d have enough to splurge on new computer parts and the legendary game itself come time. Hinata had helped with his endeavor eagerly, starting a mini GoFundMe in Kenma’s honor that many of his fellow firefighters had donated to just for laughs.

Kozume’s need for the game surpassed the blow to his pride. 

“The Tokyo location is going to be swamped,” Kozume mumbled grumpily, half to himself and half to Hinata’s foot which was resting on the couch cushion next to him, “So I’m going to the Sendai location instead.”

“Oh, okay,” Hinata nodded, a faint lightbulb of understanding flickering to life in his head, “It’s easier to take the bus from here than the _shinkansen_ from Tokyo, yeah?”

Kozume nodded feverishly, finally picking up his plate of now-cooled _oyakodon_. He shoveled a little into his mouth, turning back to his phone so he could find the bus that he would be taking the next morning. He’d already bought tickets in advance, but when it came to large events like this, Kozume’s need to double and triple-check could become overwhelming. 

“Kenma,” Hinata lit up with another wave of excitement, almost knocking his own chopsticks out of his hand. He caught them (only barely) and used them to point at his fridge. 

“I have some apple pie for when you finish your food!”

“How did you get apple pie?” Kozume put his food aside, eyes still locked onto his phone as he moved to pull the desert out of the small, mostly-empty fridge. 

_Maybe I should’ve told him after he finished his actual meal_ , Hinata chuckled nervously to himself. 

“Ah, a friend got it for me.”

“A friend from Tokyo?” Kozume allowed himself a brief smile, then frowned in confusion when he read the _Tokyo Bakery_ label plastered across the pie’s clear-wrapped surface. 

“Uh, it was Kageyama-san,” Hinata mumbled, feeling his face heat up when Kozume looked at him with utter disgust. The disgust faded to appreciation as the blond man helped himself to half the pie, piled onto one large, paper plate. 

“I don’t want to know more,” Kozume cut off Hinata’s flustered fumble for words, sliding further into the couch and taking his pie and phone with him. Hinata had been bothering Kozume incessantly with random updates on him and the volleyball player’s growing… _whatever._ Hinata had been too jittery to call it friendship, almost passing out when Kozume suggested the term ‘relationship’. 

_It’s important to know where you both stand_ , Kozume had explained to Hinata in a moment of brief wisdom, _so you know if you can count on each other when you need help leveling up._

Kozume took leveling up seriously. Finding a good gaming partner was just about as serious as it got. However, the video game analogy had flown straight over Hinata’s fluffy head, much to Kozume’s chagrin, and so he resigned himself to denying any conversation about the guy who made Hinata feel _gwaah_ sometimes.

“...he’s just so dumb, Kenma! It shouldn’t be cute, but then he gets all _grr_ and does the _thing_ with his _face_ ! His face is definitely _not_ ugly…”

Kozume sank further into the comfort behind him, and Hinata merrily used the other man’s ability to zone out as an excuse to rant into the open air. The weight he’d felt on his chest from work lifted slowly as he relayed the latest argument he’d had with the blue-eyed setter, detailing how he’d secretly found it fun to get tossed across the room like a bean bag. 

Hinata was starting to really look forward to Kageyama’s weekend visits, not that he’d ever felt averse to playing host to a world-famous volleyball player. The stone-faced man’s facade would crack the moment he saw Hinata barreling towards him, strings of expletives and double-sided questions pouring out of his scowling mouth as the red-head steered the limping man back to Hinata’s apartment. They never did anything notable— nothing that could be labeled a nervous first date— but they seemed to be perfectly content with their ‘I’ve been married to you for ten years, I don’t care if my socks smell’ kind-of interactions. Well, Hinata was more than content with them. 

However much Hinata could uncover Kageyama’s true, petulant, childish personality, the fireman had never had the full confidence to say he _knew_ Kageyama. Even so, their _hanging out_ was a great topic to flex on other people and Hinata adored the envy directed at him.

To others, their relationship seemed janky and uncoordinated, but it worked for both of them. Hinata, as he was slowly realizing, seemed to have a flair for the bad communicators and reeled them into his life the way a small-prey fisherman would a shark. 

_It isn’t so bad though_ , Hinata told himself, _Kageyama is a cute shark_. 

______________________________________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for the large gap between updates - I'm unfortunately rather poor at sticking to a schedule. That being said, I hope you enjoyed this chapter (even though the word count between POVs was unbalanced hehe). I decided to incorporate a little decon scene into this chapter, but I'll probably be going further into the 'kagehina' stuff in future chapters instead of their careers. I didn't want to make it too complicated, so I tried simplifying a few things. Let me know if anything struck you as weird/hard to understand and I'll try my best to explain it! As always, thank you so much for reading, and have a lovely week!


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata and Kageyama get together.

Kageyama didn’t like how it felt to have a friend. It was like Hinata now had permanent residence in his brain (albeit only 2% compared to the 95% of volleyball and mandatory 3% of basic survival) and the small fireman would pop up into his conscience when he least expected. Even without having seen Hinata in over three weeks, the redhead’s stupid assurance and squinted smile were everpresent. Like some kind of unsightly rash, or maybe a zit, Hinata just wouldn’t go away. No matter how many things Kageyama tried occupying his time with, nothing could remove the smirking loudmouth from his subconscious. Using the microwave? _Hinata._ Watching volleyball matches? _Hinata._ Physical-fucking-therapy? _Hinata Shoyo._

_Jacking off? Hin—_

“—How’s physical therapy going, Tobio-chan?”

Oikawa clapped down on Kageyama’s shoulder with a strong hand, squeezing the muscle beneath briefly before offering him some popcorn. It was one of the few weaknesses of Oikawa that Kageyama knew: fresh, air-popped, unbuttered, and unsalted popcorn. It was, arguably, the blandest shit on the planet, but Oikawa seemed to like bland shit (he liked Iwaizumi and milkbread), and the trainer had approved it beforehand as an okay snack. Kageyama politely accepted a handful, stuffing it in his mouth to distract himself from his last thought. 

If it had been anyone else, they might have felt shame about masturbating to a not-quite-friend-but-more-than-acquaintance. Kageyama was not _anyone else_ though and felt no shame whatsoever in the brief seconds of orgasmic mind-fuzz that brought with it a particular, recurring star role, which involved a too-loud laugh and soft, orange hair. 

Kageyama hadn’t quite made the connection yet between the orange blob of his early morning showers (and occasional late-night insomnia) and the orange blob of his early morning train rides and late-night phone calls. And so, he was stuck in blissful unawareness of what _exactly_ his ‘friendship’ with Hinata entailed, least of all what his mind wanted from it. 

Hinata Shoyo was like the plague: contagious, and prone to making Kageyama feel like he was about to puke (is that a symptom of plague? History was never Kageyama’s strength).

Kageyama’s tongue ran over his teeth, counting the crevices where the popcorn husks seem to have lodged just beyond the reach of his finger. Popcorn was too bland to serve as an actual distraction from his malady, so he resumed filing his nails as soon as the last kernel left his hand. There wasn’t much to take care of since Kageyama always kept his nails in good form, but there was nothing wrong with touching up a few jagged edges now and then. 

Call it whatever, but there was something about smooth, even nails that made Kageyama feel at peace before a serve or a set. Hinata had called it a ‘ritual’, the fireman apparently had many, and declared that rituals were important to maintaining a _gwoom_ headspace during both volleyball and firefighting. 

_Gwoom_ was the sound of determination— it had taken Kageyama two months to decipher Hinata Shoyo language (Shoyese? Shoyoian?...) and he was starting to, worryingly, _understand_ some stuff. 

“It’s going good,” Kageyama answered gruffly, shuffling his legs closer together when another member of the team decided to plop down next to him. 

“I hope you feel better soon,” They wished in his general direction, the smell of stale sweat starting to burn a hole through Kageyama’s nostrils. Practice for them had finished a little while ago, and some had forgone their showers in favor of watching practice highlights. It was a decision Kageyama did not support.

“I miss your energy, man.”

What was Kageyama supposed to say in response to that? _I miss my energy too?_ If anything, Kageyama missed being able to move without worrying of worsening his injury. He’d taken a lot of things for granted before: like jumping. _Hinata is a good jumper._ He had the leg muscles to prove it. His legs were thick and strong— and they were probably what made him able to lift Kageyama that fateful night two months before.

“I’ll be back to normal activity soon,” Kageyama promised. He met Ushijima’s blank gaze from across the room, the left-handed ace slowly nodding in affirmation.

“I look forward to receiving your tosses again.”

“If he can still toss well that is,” Oikawa added in with a saccharine smile. He had a knee supporter wrapped around his right leg and Kageyama fought back the urge to point out how Oikawa wasn’t exactly uninjured either. 

_You need to cool down, Bakageyama!_

_Great,_ Kageyama melted further into the couch sullenly as the rest of his team gathered around the television to watch an old practice clip, _Now I’m hearing things._

The practice clip blared across the screen, unnecessary zooms from the camera garnering quiet snickers from the rest of the team. Oikawa’s face scrunched unpleasantly at a particularly invasive shot of his serve from behind and Kageyama’s face contorted into swift, short-lived pleasure at the brunette’s discomfort. Ushijima seemed unphased by the crude humor, eyes flitting back and forth between the television screen and his own cell phone. 

_Even Ushijima has friends,_ Kageyama’s brain pointed out snarkily, _you really are destined to be alone._

But now Kageyama had Hinata and he was slightly less alone. 

Kageyama’s phone buzzed lowly in his pocket and he jumped up, eager for a reason to distance himself from the group. It wasn’t that the team was unkind— all of them (except maybe Oikawa) had made every effort to make Kageyama feel included. It was just that Kageyama himself wasn’t very comfortable around people. People were a scary, gray area. He couldn’t understand them the way he could volleyball. _But Hinata Shoyo seems to be the exception._

Kageyama surmised that the reason was that Hinata was decidedly like a volleyball: small, bouncy, and fun to hit. 

_Speak of the devil—_

“Kageyama!”

Kageyama held the phone away from his ear, flinching at the drawn-out scream that warbled through. Hinata Shoyo was loud. This was an undisputed fact.

“Be quiet, dumbass—”

“—why are we in a magazine?”

Kageyama’s mouth clamped shut, mind flitting back to the press conference Oikawa had relentlessly teased him about. The unpleasant memory brought with it an unwavering determination to prove his prowess in human interactions and socialization. Kageyama didn’t suck at interacting with people— he didn’t think he sucked at anything honestly— he just chose to focus on more important things instead: like volleyball. 

“I’m always in magazines”

Out came Kageyama’s response— smooth like butter on asphalt (and just as unsavory).

“I know that _Bakageyama_ —”

The grumpy setter’s mouth quirked up, eyes training on his phone like he could somehow will the pervasive fireman through the phone with magic. _And then what?_ Kageyama’s fingers closed around air, as he imagined dense, orange hair and a laughing squeal. 

“—but why am _I_ in magazines? I’m in _Fireball_ ! _Holy crap I’m in Fireball Magazine_ —”

 _Fireball?_ The wall felt solid against Kageyama’s back and he leaned into it, grimacing slightly when the plaster pushed his still-wet hair from his shower into the back of his neck. It was cold and it tickled the slightest bit. He let out a breathy laugh into the receiver, mouth twitching as he fought back another smile. 

Afraid that he’d melt into the floor (his stomach was flipping strangely too), Kageyama hurriedly cut Hinata off mid-ramble. 

“—Dumbass, they think we’re dating”

“ _They_? Who’s ‘they’? How did they get a picture of me?”

Hinata, strangely enough, didn’t focus on the fact that romance had mythically blossomed between the two of them on the pages of a B-level gossip magazine. He seemed to care more about the potential stalkers. _Hinata doesn’t mind us being in a relationship_ , the hastily assumed realization soaked into Kageyama slowly and made him sleepy the way warm milk would. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this. _Happy?_ Kageyama had been happy before. This feeling was similar, but not the same.

 _Plague,_ he reminded himself, _Hinata Shoyo is like the plague._

Kageyama could feel a fever rising, nausea bubbling in the back of his throat. It felt gross in a very nice way. 

“Tobio-chan, the way you’re looking at your phone right now is disturbing,”

And just like that, Oikawa Tooru managed to rid the plague with his bland-popcorn self. Kageyama didn’t thank him, pushing off the wall when a chill ran down his neck. He missed the dizzying warmth from before. 

“Creep.” Oikawa snickered. 

“The way you look at Iwaizumi-san is disturbing—”

“—Oh please, I haven’t seen him in thirteen days. The way Iwa-chan looks at _me_ is actually—”

“—Is that Oikawa-san?” Hinata demanded loudly over the phone, “Hi Oikawa-san!”

“Chibi-chan,” Oikawa cooed, fingers slipping around Kageyama’s wrist so he dropped his phone like a hot coal into Oikawa’s other outstretched palm.

“How are you? I’ve seen you in magazines.”

Hinata seemed quieter now, no longer audible without holding the phone close to his ear. Kageyama wondered if that was the power of Oikawa Tooru: to mute everyone he interacted with like some kind of godly being. _A Great King,_ Hinata had called him. _A Great Annoyance,_ Kageyama had brandished his thoughtfully assigned title in retaliation. Hinata had laughed at that, a guilty sound he tried muffling into Kageyama’s shoulder when they shared a seat on Hinata’s dingy couch. 

The memory shot a burst of warmth through the aforementioned shoulder and Kageyama hoped he wouldn’t die from his body temperature’s fluctuations. 

“Oh, ‘they’ refers to half of Japan, Chibi-chan. The half that stalks Tobio anyways— the unimportant hal—hey!”

Oikawa’s noise of protest didn’t match his actions, his hands dropping loosely at his sides without putting up a fight. Kageyama smiled victoriously, cradling his phone close to his ear. 

“Oikawa-san?” 

“Wrong, dumbass,” Kageyama scowled, moving aside as Oikawa brushed by him and went back to the main room with a smirk. 

“Oikawa-san stole my phone, but I got it back”

“Ah, good job Kageyama-kun”

 _I did a good job,_ Kageyama smiled smugly, former irritation forgotten as he let the complement settle over him nicely like a cape. Nice and warm. It wasn’t particularly rare for Hinata to toss out compliments, but Kageyama savored each one and let it melt on his tongue like chocolate. 

“Can you walk yet?”

Kageyama scoffed, reflexively stretching his leg. He’d been attending all the physical therapy sessions the trainer had demanded, and he was almost back at full ability. There was still some stiffness in his leg that prevented him from joining the others in their rigorous practice, but in good time Kageyama would be back on the court to savor it once more. 

“I’ve always been able to walk,” Kageyama’s eyes squinted angrily, “But yeah I’m getting better.”

“Good, good,” Hinata hummed pleasantly and Kageyama let the warmth seep back over him.

“Then, when you come to Miyagi, I can show you around.” 

“I live in Miyagi, you idiot.”

Hinata made a weird, offended sound, and Kageyama snickered to himself. The fireman was an expressive person— most of the time not even realizing that he was very openly displaying his emotions. Kageyama had found it funny at first. It was still funny, but a little sweeter now since he had learned what each crinkle and contour meant. 

“Well, _yeah_ ,” Hinata countered intelligently, “But you’re always in Tokyo for training, and your apartment burned down.”

 _Oh yeah,_ Kageyama grimaced at the reminder. Since training was held in Tokyo, Kageyama stayed in the apartment he had in the city more often than not. However, on the rare occasion he would have a break, he’d usually catch the train up to Miyagi, specifically Karasuno, where his old apartment had been. Now, with his apartment very much out of commission (it was being rebuilt though!) his trips to Miyagi warranted an awkward stay at Iwaizumi’s place in Aoba-Johsai. 

“I still know Miyagi pretty well,” Kageyama huffed. 

“I know it better,” Hinata promised smugly.

“No, you don’t, dumbass—”

Kageyama’s rebuttal was cut off by what sounded like a loud beeping noise, followed by a very crackly and rushed conversation. A string of numbers and an address were spat out over the line and Hinata went quiet as both men tried to strain their ears to hear what was being said. 

“I’ve gotta go Grumpyama,” Hinata spoke a moment later, “We’re getting a call.”

 _Oh right._ Kageyama’s practice for the day had ended and he (and the rest of the team) were expected to relax and let their muscles repair for the next day. It wasn’t exactly a day off, but tomorrow would be limited in how physically exhausting it would be. They’d probably study plays from other countries and focus on techniques over. Hinata didn’t have off-days the way Kageyama did though, his shifts usually running the better part of 24 hours (and sometimes 48). Hinata’s sleep schedule was absolutely _fucked_. 

“Y-yeah, go,” Kageyama wished Hinata luck, which sounded stupid but the redhead seemed to appreciate the sentiment.

“I’ll call you later, yeah?” 

The sound of shuffling accompanied the promise and Kageyama could briefly envision Hinata shrouded in a too-big orange coat with bright, fluorescent details. The Karasuno uniform for firefighters was nothing short of loud and obnoxious, but suited the firefighters just fine. 

“Maybe we can discuss an _actual_ date and give the magazines something real to talk about.”

“Yeah, oka—” _wait. What?_

“Bye, Yamayama!”

 _Be safe_.

Kageyama watched the screen of his phone turn black, replaying Hinata’s parting words slowly. A small smile curled onto his face without him noticing, red flooding the length of his neck and reaching up to his ears. 

_Oh shit, the PR Team._ Kageyama would have some explaining to do.

➳➴➵➶

Hinata Shoyo was unreasonably impressed with himself. He knew he looked smug— Kageyama had made it abundantly clear that he would ditch their _date_ if Hinata continued to smile the way he was. _Date._ Hinata let the word swirl around his head and soak in like a good wine, smile melting into something a little more lovable as Kageyama inhaled his milk. Kageyama, as Hinata had always heard but had never seen in-person, had an unhealthily _adorable_ obsession with milk. Ever the drama king, the dark-haired man’s features would scrunch up like he was about to take a shit, sucking harshly on the little straw attached to the box to maximize on the milkiness. Hinata would have been lying if he said the imagery didn’t evoke images of _other things_ , but he was keeping it PG for now— it was their first official date and he wanted it to be nice and classy.

So, he’d taken Kageyama to his favorite park and blessed him with five boxes of milk and meat buns from his favorite store in Sendai (yes, he’d really splurged for this). 

The cashier there had judged him (way too harshly in Hinata’s opinion), tcching loudly and shoving everything into bags with way too much force. Hinata would have stayed and made a snarky comment if it hadn’t been for the green-haired gentleman who’d intervened to explain that the cashier was simply having a bad day. Hinata had felt bad for an hour, but then Kageyama showed up with his grumpy face (but secretly excited, you could see it in his eyes and it was illegally cute). 

Now, Hinata wasn’t sure he’d ever live down this high.

“So what do people do on,” Kageyama gulped audibly, crushing the empty milk box with his hand, “ _dates._ ”

“What do you think they do, Kageyama?” Hinata asked, honestly. He bit into his meat bun, legs swinging on the park bench. It was a little chilly now and the wind bit at Hinata’s exposed ankles playfully. 

“The PR Team said I can’t kiss you.”

“Oh,” Hinata let himself deflate a little, partially surprised and partially disappointed as Kageyama paused mid-sip. 

“In public. We can’t kiss in public. We can kiss in private though. Just no public _stuff_ until they figure stuff out.”

Kageyama refused to meet Hinata’s gaze, the man’s gaze singularly focused on the leaf resting on the concrete in front of them. A strong flush had built on his face, and Hinata sniffed loudly, his own nose a little red from the chill. 

“Good to know, Kageyama-kun”

“Shut up”

Hinata laughed into his scarf, crumpling empty wrappers in his hand. He had a few, awesome volleyball videos saved on his DVR to binge with Kageyama. They'd watched a few together over the phone, but Hinata had saved the _really_ good ones for their in-person meeting. Since the night was starting to set in, and with it the dry cold, Hinata stood up and stretched briefly so they could start the walk back to his apartment. 

Kageyama followed suit, one hand dug into his pocket as they made their way back with a lively conversation. Hinata bounded beside him giddily, one ankle still a little sore from a tricky excavation he’d had earlier in his last shift. 

“What else did the PR Team say we can’t do?”

“They gave me a list,” Kageyama tapped a little on his phone, hunching down so Hinata could see his screen. Hinata’s nose pressed against the screen as he tried reading the words cross-eyed, leaping back and laughing when Kageyama made a grab at his hair. 

“Idiot, you’ll hurt your eyes if you look that close.”

Hinata just giggled, sticking his tongue out before taking another, properly distanced, look at the list. 

“No babies?”

“Yeah,” Kageyama frowned, not catching Hinata’s amusement, “Apparently having kids before marriage has a chance of bringing my _approval_ rating with the older generation down. It’s already not too high ‘cause I’m not a gentleman or something.”

Hinata blinked, once. Then, twice. 

“Kageyama, you know two guys can’t have kids (biologically), right?”

“Of co- _dumbass_! Of course I know that! I was just saying—” Kageyama let his hand speak for him, digging his fingers deep into the shock of red hair on Hinata’s head. Hinata laughed, squealing half with pain and half with sheer joy as Kageyama tried to put him in a headlock. It wasn’t mean-spirited though, the setter’s arm settling warm and heavy around Hinata’s shoulders.

“Hmm, what did they say about hugs?”

“That counts as physicality,” Kageyama took his arm away from Hinata’s neck to point out the rule on his phone. 

“No hugs in publ—”

Hinata grabbed the man by his scarf, bringing him down to press a sloppy kiss against his nose.

“Wha—”

“—Shh,” Hinata hushed him with a finger, looking around conspiratorially. 

“I’m waiting for Japan to turn on us.”

Kageyama paused to join Hinata in his surveillance and Hinata muffled a laugh into his scarf again, giving up on waiting and smacking another wet kiss to Kageyama’s chin this time. 

“ _Oi_ , you can’t just—”

“—Sorry, I probably should have asked first. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just really wanna kiss you.”

“I don’t care. I wanted to kiss you first,” Kageyama scowled, blushing and looking at the ground as he realized the PR Team wasn’t going to descend from the sky and smite him into the ground with a heavy tabloid. 

“No way,” Hinata scoffed, tugging at Kageyama’s scarf again to bring his head further down. 

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a whole month!”

“ _Ha_ ,” Kageyama breathed, eyes locking onto Hinata’s. Hinata felt his body freeze up, cheeks going ruddy as Kageyama smirked down at him with more confidence than any human had the right to have. 

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for longer.”

“Since that time I threw up on you in the bar?” Hinata guessed, dodging another hair-grab from Kageyama. 

“Longer,” Kageyama flushed, not meeting Hinata’s gaze. 

“Since that time I let you slide down the fire pole?” 

“Longer, _dumbass_ ” 

“Hey!” Hinata scowled, slapping Kageyama’s chest with a glove, “I’m not the one who’s been _pining_ for two months.”

Kageyama’s silence made Hinata curious and he peered up at the suddenly-quiet man with a smirk. 

“The hospital then? When I visited you your knees went weak and you almost slipped and fell.”

“I had an injured leg!” Kageyama was lobster-red now, and Hinata wondered if he could roast marshmallows on the other’s skin. 

“But it was before that.”

 _What?_ Hinata cocked his head to one side, trying to remember when he’d interacted with Kageyama prior to the hospital. There was always the actual _fire_ where Hinata had carried Kageyama down the stairs but…

“No,” Hinata breathed out with a laugh. 

“You’ve wanted to kiss me since I lugged your butt down the stairs?”

“ _Shutup_.” The words mushed together into one, unintelligible one as Kageyama looked away and angrily stared at the ground like a petulant child. His hair fell in smooth sheets over his face and Hinata let his hand reach up to brush some of it aside in an attempt to woo Kageyama with the power of a cliché.

“You looked really cool.”

“You have a thing for getting carried, Kageyama-kun?”

“I will smother you with your scarf.”

“ _Princess Yamayama_ —”

Another kiss, but this time Kageyama had used his excellent setter aim to land one right on Hinata’s mouth. Hinata, being mid-tease hadn’t been caught at the best angle and the kiss was more than a little messy. 

“No kissing in public right?”

Kageyama nodded wordlessly, eyes glazed. 

“Let’s get somewhere private then.”

Before Kageyama could object, Hinata swept the man’s long legs out from under him. Hinata’s ankle squeaked in protest, but the redhead used the sudden rush of adrenaline he got from holding a hot guy to soothe the angry muscle and make his way speedily to his apartment. Kageyama’s sputtering ceased into nothing except the occasional profanity when Hinata made it seem like he would drop him on his ass. 

Kageyama felt warm and solid in his arms, the man’s face turned into Hinata’s neck as he crunched together into a strange v-shape. Hinata focused on getting up the stairs, ignoring the weird gaze he got from the landlady as she unloaded her groceries. He would have plenty of time to contemplate the flexibility of Kageyama’s spine, but his current dilemma laid in the fact that he’d never had to carry someone this far and his shoulders were about to dislocate. 

The second Hinata reached his apartment, he rolled Kageyama out of his arms and unlocked the door. 

“I have some volleyball videos—”

Hinata made a weird noise, his feet leaving the ground as Kageyama picked him up with a conquerous smirk. 

“You’re not the only one who can carry people, dumbass”

“Okay, but I’m kind of dense—”

“—like a brick—”

“—so you can put me down if you wa— hey!”

Hinata’s outrage melted into frustration, then annoyance as Kageyama muttered a host of little kisses all over his face. The man muttered something quietly before resuming his barrage, eyes honed in on a separate part of Hinata’s face with each attack. 

Slowly, Hinata eased himself out of Kageyama’s grasp and let his feet find the floor again. He grabbed himself a handful of shiny black hair and brought the setter down for a quick peck which lengthened into a not-so-quick and not-so-skilled make-out session. 

_Oh wow,_ Hinata was excited for the next time the guys at the station tried asking what his deal with Kageyama was. He had surpassed acquaintance-hood and dominated friendship. 

Hinata had something of Kageyama’s that was his and his only: his hair.

Hinata had accidentally yoinked out a bunch of it when the kiss had gotten overly-enthusiastic.

“Ouch,” Kageyama breathed, eyes flickering from Hinata’s hair to his mouth as he determined what was more important: chewing out Hinata for giving him a bald spot or kissing him again. The latter won out and Hinata didn’t complain. 

“W-wait,” Hinata pushed back against Kageyama’s chest, his head light.

“What’s your favorite animal?”

“What?” Kageyama's eyes narrowed, pupils still obscuring the blue of his eyes. 

Hinata smiled a little when the black-haired man shook his head roughly trying to get rid of the flush that was slowly building up his cheeks. Kageyama, as Hinata had realized, was not at all experienced the way the magazines had said. It was sinfully cute, and Hinata was taking full advantage of the awkward, shy movements of the tall baby. Kageyama’s hands had settled gingerly around Hinata’s shoulders, long fingers curling around the muscle in an attempt to bring him closer without hurting him. Hinata had scoffed at the gentle treatment, plastering kisses down the man’s neck before pulling back and realizing—

“—What’s your favorite animal?” Hinata repeated, eyes wide and curious as Kageyama struggled to regain his bearings. 

“Our date was kinda short, so I want to get to know you before I _get to know you_ , if you know what I me—”

“—Yes, yes,” Kageyama cut off Hinata hastily, planting his palm on top of Hinata’s mouth without thinking. Hinata grinned, pressing his lips to the calloused skin and kissing Kageyama’s palm noisily. 

Kageyama flushed, taking his hand back and shoving it down at his side where Hinata couldn’t reach it. 

“Um,” The man scowled briefly, red still coloring his cheeks and neck, “I like cats, I guess.”

“Cats are cool,” Hinata nodded, “My friend Kenma has a cat. Well, not really. It’s just a stray he feeds from time to time. Tanaka-san, you’ve met him, likes dogs more, but he’s weak for kittens. Puppies too. Any baby animal, actually, and Tanaka-san kind of starts crying…”

Hinata trailed off, smiling sheepishly, “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“You’re really annoying”

Hinata’s smile morphed into a gape, mouth scowled in outrage as he glowered up at Kageyama. 

“Yeah, well your face is ann—”

“—but you’re also kinda cute.”

Hinata grew aware of the nice, volleyball-setter hand palming his ass. The other, having slid down from his shoulder, pressed tight against Hinata’s pecs. Kageyama’s eyes smoldered into his and he bit back a goofy grin, attempting the mature route instead and cocking his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.

“You’re a cute dumbass,” Kageyama relented and Hinata’s mouth flurried through movements, unable to decide on whether he was flattered or offended. _Maybe both?_

“I could be a _naked,_ cute dumbass,” Hinata ventured. 

Kageyama nodded hurriedly, hands slipping under Hinata’s shirt to whisk it over his head. The cool air of his apartment bit at his torso and Hinata quickly snagged Kageyama’s wrist to yank him over to his bedroom. The only thing better than having the world’s best setter as a friend was _having_ the world’s best setter. 

“Wait,”

Kageyama didn’t catch the memo. Hinata slammed against the door of his bedroom as the tall, clumsy (strangely, he was never clumsy on the court) oaf who was following him bumped into his back. _Ow_ , Hinata clutched his nose, frowning up at Kageyama who looked down at him guiltily.

“Idiot, why’d you stop walking?”

“‘Cause,” Hinata’s voice came out nasally as he squeezed at his nose to make sure it wasn’t broken, “I don’t have any protection, you?”

“From what?”

_Oh._

Hinata eyed Kageyama, waiting to see if the man would express any sign of joking. _Haha, sike,_ the mental-image of Kageyama said. _I’m a clueless virgin,_ the real-life Kageyama said. 

“You know what?” Hinata cradled Kageyama’s hand in his, patting it lightly and leading him back to the living room. 

“There are some things we need to talk about first.”

______________________________________________________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda like how this ended up so I'm thinking I'll make this a short story and end it here. I've kinda run out of further ideas and I don't fancy dragging this on for too long. There will probably be an epilogue to catch up with our boys in the far future. The next couple I'm planning for this series will be Oikawa and Iwaizumi (probably). I'm sorry if it seems cut short to anyone, but I hope the little of it there was enjoyable! Have a lovely holiday season.


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata and Kageyama are happy and thriving. Oikawa Tooru? Not so much.

Hinata Shoyo got time off from work because that slight twinge in his ankle, once adequately ignored, had developed into an unavoidable sprain. Though he was thoroughly bummed about missing out on calls, the paid leave and free time made up for it (only a little). Hinata had been able to stay with Kozume in Tokyo and went to every single public practice he could so he could cheer Kageyama on. 

Oikawa thought the whole spectacle was hideously adorable, and promptly started a debate over the validity of Kageyama and Hinata’s relationship: the only free time the other had was when they were injured and that was a bit weird. 

Kageyama, thanks to Oikawa’s probing, was beginning to see a pattern behind all these injuries and wondered if he’d done something to displease whoever was in charge of his fate— but they had led him to Hinata so maybe they weren’t mad, just sadistic. Hinata thought the coincidence was romantic and promptly told everyone about the humor in the situation even though Kageyama found it less humorous and more suspicious. Still, it wasn’t like he could _save_ Hinata from his own job, the same way Hinata could never stop Kageyama from playing volleyball.

They settled for daily reminders:

_Don’t overdo it, Yamayama!_

_Don’t die, dumbass._

Kageyama supposed that was romantic enough. 

Oikawa agreed, albeit reluctantly and grumpily. 

“It’s not fair,” Oikawa mouthed at his straw, rambling into the open air as Ushijima stared down in his lap at his phone. 

“How could _Kageyama Tobio,_ of all people, have such a _good_ relationship?”

“Do you want me to answer, Oikawa Tooru?”

“No,” Oikawa scowled, truly at his worst since he was speaking to _Ushijima_ of all people, “And don’t call me by my full name, it’s weird.”

“I apologize.”

 _Too fucking weird._ Oikawa buried his head in his arms, a strong pout forming on his lips when he spied Kageyama and Hinata across the room, excitedly talking to each other as the rest of the team watched. The PR Team had decided to throw them a little party of sorts and they were all allowed to bring a plus-one. Oikawa’s date, a cute girl with long hair and a big nose, had left a little while ago, completely put off by Oikawa’s scowling self. 

Oikawa didn’t blame her, but he and Ushijima were the _only_ people in the bar they’d booked without a date present. _And Ushijima had been on his phone the whole night, too._

Oikawa wasn’t desperate enough (yet) to resort to conversing with Ushijima Wakatoshi, but he was dangerously bordering his limit. 

Hinata pressed a sloppy kiss to Kageyama’s cheek, cackling as the team around them hooted. Kageyama’s face turned pink. 

“How come you’re never in gossip magazines, Ushiwaka?”

Oikawa held his breath and took the fall, keeping his eyes level and bored as Ushjima finally looked up from his device, brows contorted in confusion. 

“I am boring, apparently,” Ushijima shrugged, “They only follow me to the gym and nowhere else.”

“Do you even go anywhere else?” Oikawa snorted, more to himself than Ushijima, regretting the outburst when Ushijima opened his mouth to respond. 

“I have a friend who I visit when I have time.”

“A friend?” Oikawa rolled his eyes, not facing Ushijima and cradling his milkshake. _Friends are pointless_.

It wasn’t that Oikawa didn’t have friends— he was Oikawa Tooru, how could he not have friends?— it was that he didn’t see why Ushijima had taken time to _say_ that he had a friend. _Everyone has friends._ Ushijima saying he had a friend only made him weirder than he already appeared. Besides, friends didn’t get you laid.

“He is my best friend,” Ushijima stated plainly, turning back to his phone as even he realized the pointlessness of talking to Oikawa. 

Oikawa groaned loudly, resting his forehead against the cool wood of the table. 

_Who needs relationships anyway?_ Kageyama had survived for so long being an absolute loner, Ushijima too— and they had been successful. They were in the starting lineup for the Olympic team. _Oikawa wasn’t even there yet._ Kageyama had his spot as starting setter, currently, and nothing pissed Oikawa off more. 

Oikawa squeezed his eyes shut, trying to drown out the noise of Hinata’s loud, squealing laugh and Kageyama’s booming, defensive babble. 

_How can he have both?_ It wasn’t fair. Kageyama was the golden boy, and Hinata was his firecracker— they suited each other in _every_ possible way, and it made Oikawa sick to his stomach. 

“Everything alright, here?”

“I am alright. Oikawa is having an existential cris—”

“—Shut up, Ushiwaka!” Oikawa lifted his head to hiss at the bastard beside him, his violent tone not affecting the large man’s passive stare. He blinked slow, like a cow grazing, before looking back down at his phone. 

“I am completely _a-okay_ , sir,” Oikawa rushed, pinching the bridge of his nose before plastering on a megawatt smile, “I’m sorry to bother—you?!”

“Hello, Oikawa.”

Iwaizumi Hajime looked down at Oikawa, eyebrows raised in amusement and a small smile on his face. 

Oikawa groaned once more, slamming his head down into the table a little more strongly. Maybe, if he hit his head hard enough, he would forget what an _absolute fool_ he’d made of himself in front of Iwaizumi, not only once, but twice now. 

“I thought you worked at Club Kubo’s branch in Aoba-Johsai,” Oikawa mumbled into the table, peeking up to see the EMT/bouncer/whatever-else-the-fuck-he-was still looking down at him. 

“I had off, but the boss asked if I could come to Tokyo to cover for a _VIP crowd_ ,” Iwaizumi snorted, something akin to worry flashing in his eyes before it snuffed out, quick.

“If I’d have known you were part of the VIP I would’ve brought my bug repellant.” 

Oikawa, on a normal day, would have replied to the prod with a whine and a witty follow-up insult about Iwaizumi’s forehead wrinkles. But today was arguably one of Oikawa’s worst days in history, so he merely nodded in agreement with Iwaizumi’s evaluation of him. _If I were a bug,_ Oikawa thought, _I’d be a butterfly._

Because he was obviously so beautiful people hunted him down to pin him to a corkboard and display him at museums. 

“Get up, Loserkawa.”

“Huh?”

Oikawa squeaked, feeling strong arms wrap around his torso and bodily heave him up out of his chair. Thankfully, everyone seemed to be distracted by the _power couple_ that was Kageyama and Hinata to pay attention to Oikawa as he was forcibly steered towards the club entrance. Ushijima merely nodded at Iwaizumi wordlessly, returning to his phone once more. 

“Wait,” Oikawa dug his heels into the ground, but to no avail, “I need to say bye.”

“Nobody cares,” Iwaizumi responded, razor quick, and Oikawa felt what little pride he had left sink into the flooring. 

“Wait, but can you even leave? You’re on duty tonight—”

“—My shift just ended,” Iwaizumi huffed, jostling Oikawa out of the building.

“You and I are going to go to your apartment—”

Oikawa felt his pulse pick up a bit, his reluctance decreasing as he pictured _exactly_ what he and Iwaizumi would do at his apartment. 

“—and you’re going to sleep.”

“Excuse me?” 

Surely, Iwaizumi meant that both of them would sleep. _Together._ That was exactly what Oikawa needed right now: a good lay. He wasn’t in the mood for a particular gender and, if Oikawa were being honest, he’d take whatever he could get right now. It wasn’t as if Iwaizumi was unattractive— anything but it actually. Oikawa had subjected himself to countless nights in Kageyama’s company just for a glimpse of the man. 

“ _Oi, Shittykawa_ ,” Iwaizumi pinched Oikawa’s side and the setter yelped, jumping off the side, “Stop looking weird and just follow me.”

“Where are we going, Iwa-chan?”

“Don’t call me that,” Iwaizumi grumbled, “And we’re going to the convenience store to get some dinner since you hardly ate anything tonight.”

“Okay,” Oikawa smiled into his shoulder, “And then we go to my apartment?” _And fuck_?

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi shrugged, tugging Oikawa along as they walked in the quiet night.

“I’ll drop you off and you can sleep off whatever weird mood you’re in.”

 _Oh._ Oikawa frowned. _So that’s how it’s going to be._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the final chapter! It's mainly from Oikawa's POV because the next story in this series will be an IwaOi story. I'm pretty excited for it :)
> 
> I'm sorry if this story seemed a bit rushed at the end, or if it didn't end the way you wanted it to. I'm trying to keep these short and simple so I can focus on other works I'm currently busy with. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed this Kagehina story!
> 
> Future Ships to possibly be Featured (in no specific order):  
> \- IwaOi (next story)  
> \- TsukkiYama  
> \- KuroKen  
> \- TanaKiyo  
> \- AsaNoya  
> \- UshiTen  
> \- DaiSuga

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> Bear with me as I experiment writing fanfiction for the first time :) I'm planning on making this a series featuring all my favorite Haikyuu!! ships with at least one of the partners being a first responder. I have some limited experience as an EMS personnel, so a large chunk of any experiences mentioned will have been either briefly researched, or experienced by me. I'm going off of the system I have experienced, and am not aware of how first responders function in Japan (sorry!). I wanted this to partially be about raising awareness of all the stuff first responders have to go through, but I'm kicking the series off with a fluffy (I think? I don't really plan my stories...) story with Kagehina. 
> 
> I only mentioned the main ship in the tags and the others have been termed as "minor", but might get their own stories later on (provided I'm motivated enough to write it all).
> 
> My updating schedule is haphazard (I have to juggle this fanfic with my original piece on Wattpad), but I'll try my best to update as often as I can! Thank you so much for reading <3 It means the world.


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